


Fallen Angels

by writernotwaiting



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Amora is not nice, Amora prefers to be in charge, F/M, Fantasy, I know -- who knew?, Logyn - Freeform, Loki AU, Loki Needs a Hug, Magic, Memory Loss, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Apocalypse, Science Fiction, Sigyn has anger issues, Snarky sex, beware of snark, magic sex, mild violence, not in any way at all really, ok maybe just tiniest whiff of compliance, some dub-con elements, stone giants can be great big softies sometimes, the course of true love never did run smooth, willing suspension of disbelief required
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 68,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5946373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; Loki has been living in exile on Midgaard for decades, searching for his lost wife; when he finally finds her, things do not go as he had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After: Walking with Unblest Feet

Loki groaned in disgust as he awoke, staring up at the peak of his tiny canvas shelter. _What now?_

 **Crack!** “Aw shit!” “That’s it, the light’s busted, get a fire going so we can see what we’re doing.” “You idiot!”

Snap!

_Hel! What kind of buffoons are out in the middle of nowhere at this time of night?_

“Carlssen, haul that box over to the clearing, and bring me the ax.”

_Ah! Robbers. That kind._

Clang! “Oh Holy Mother! You’ve broken my best ax, you bastard!”

“Shut up! It must be charmed. Bring the witch over here and make her open it up.”

_Witch? Well, this should be entertaining, at least._

There was much rustling of leaves and cracking of twigs while they dragged some poor body into the clearing. “Open it up, Stella!”

Loki waited for the weeping and begging to start, that was always the tedious part. On the other hand, whatever enchanted trap lay at the bottom of their treasure would surely cause an unholy mess. That would be interesting.

A little more shuffling occurred. “Stella, open the box!”

Surprisingly enough, there was no begging; if anything, it was the thug that sounded nervous.

“Look, witch, there’s three of us and one of you, and I’ve been wantin’ t’get my hands up your skirts ever since that old crone hauled you into town in the back of her cart. Maybe if you cooperate, I’ll save the beatin’ ’til after I’ve had my fill.”

Still no begging. In fact, someone snorted and then a husky feminine voice shot back, “Odin’s Balls, Alric. Is that your plan? Haul me out in the middle of nowhere and threaten me? Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

Loki’s eyes flew open and his heart began beating a good deal faster. _That’s her. It has to be her!_ He was up and hidden at the edge of the clearing before their pathetic fire flickered twice, utterly heedless of the fat snowflakes that began accumulating in his black hair.

“You jackass, you’re so full of goat’s piss I’m surprised you haven’t drowned.”

“See here, you slut — ” came a second voice from behind her.

“Don’t you start with me, Carlssen; you’re so stupid you’d lose a battle of wits with a block of ice. What do you think you can do to me?”

 _It’s her!_ The voice was harsher, hoarse, even — not the sweet melody it once had been — but it was without question his wife — the square shoulders, the head full of corkscrew curls, the vocabulary of an infantryman. At last.

Suddenly someone rushed up behind her to attack, but before Loki could even raise himself out of a squat, the body flew through the air and slammed into a tree. A second joined the first with sickening thud, while Alric — poor bastard — hung in the air with no visible means of support, clutching at his throat, gasping for breath. “You are a waste of space, Alric. And if I find you have disturbed a single hair on that old woman’s head, your entire family will pay for your stupidity. Though, I regret to say you won’t be there to see it.” And with a quick flick of her wrist, the man’s head whipped sideways and the body dropped to the forest floor.

Loki smiled gleefully at the spectacle. _Oh, my girl! You haven’t changed a bit!_

As he stood to move forward, he could hear her muttering to herself. “Great Goddess below, what did they possibly hope to accomplish. If they’ve hurt her, I will follow them into Hel and kill them twice.”

 _Hmmm, best not startle her._ He’d been on the wrong end of that temper more than once. Loki made a great show of making noise before moving into the clearing, “Hello!” he cried out, an enormous smirk on his face. “I heard a fight and wondered if someone needed any help.”

The woman whipped around defensively, ready to attack as Loki emerged into the light with his hands held out in front of him, signaling peace. He looked at her face and his knees got weak. _So long, it’s been so long!_ He waited for her to say something, recognize him, to rush into his arms.

Instead, she backed up, no sign of recognition in her face at all. “Where in Hel did you come from? Who are you?”

The bottom dropped out of his chest, his eyes fixed on her face. “You don’t know . . . you don’t know?” The air in his chest suddenly deserted him, and his mouth went slack as he sank to his knees.

Her face at least dropped its hostility, but there was still no recognition, just confusion. She shook her head. “No. Should I know you? Are you ok?”

He couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes scanned her face for even the faintest glimmer of welcome. _She’s forgotten me. The only real thing I’ve left in all the nine realms and she’s forgotten. It can’t be true. I’ve waited so long._

“Are you alright?”

Her voice seemed as though it came at him through water rather than clear night air. And he had to force himself to answer. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Give me a minute.”

She had moved close by then, reaching out as if to steady him, but not quite touching, maintaining boundaries while offering help — a gesture so familiar to him it physically hurt. He took a deep breath, then another, as he thought hard what the best action should be. Finally, he raised himself back to his feet, carefully **not** touching her. _More information — I need more information._

“Where did you come from?” she finally asked.

“I’m camped just over there,” he waved vaguely in the direction of his tent. “I’m on my way back from Wy with supplies before the winter rolls in, just in time, apparently,” looking at the snow that swirled more thickly about them than it had just a few minutes ago, “but we’re much closer to my home than to town here. What are **you** doing out this far?”

“I was on my way back to Wy from the coast. I bartered there for herbs and medicines that we can’t get inland. I’m a healer.” She held out a gloved hand as she introduced herself, “They call me Stella.”

He took her hand, drawing on every shred of self-control to keep from pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. “Stella. That’s an unusual name. I’m Loki.”

“Loki?” That drew him a long stare. “You’re kidding, right? No one here names their child after the old gods.”

He shrugged, and laughed in spite of himself. “My parents never cared for other people’s traditions.”

It took Stella a few moments to realize that she still held his hand. She quickly drew back and apologized.

“No it’s fine,” he smiled back at her. _It’s more than fine._

Stella stared at his face long and hard as if wrestling with an odd tickle in the back of her mind. She shook her head, then, and glanced around at the carnage she had wrought.

“Oh, this looks very bad, doesn’t it?”

“Well, it sounded as though they rather had it coming.”

She snorted. “From what I gather, they’ve had it coming for years, the sad bastards. Years.”

“How is it that you were traveling with them at all?”

“They had a cart. I needed transport. We were part of a caravan, but ‘somehow’ we just got farther and farther behind the rest of the group. Apparently it wasn’t just because their horse was malnourished.”

“Where is the horse?”

“Dropped over dead in the middle of the road.” She stepped over the bodies as she began moving back to the cart. “You’d almost think they’d planned it that way.”

“And they had no electrical assist for the cart?”

She gave him a wry look as they reached the edge of the road, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Oh they were not that clever. Trust me. They even managed to bust their only lamp.” She gestured at a heap of metal and glass in the ditch before she began rummaging around the back of the cart for her bedroll. After a bit of fumbling, she looked ruefully about at the snow rapidly covering the road and observed, “I guess I’m walking back to Wy.”

“Well, as I said, we are much closer to my house than to Wy. You are welcome to stay until the weather clears. I have a wind generator that powers a couple of amenities, so it’s fairly homey, even though it’s a bit rustic.”

Stella gave him a skeptical look.

Loki’s chest tightened once more. It was look he’d seen cross her face so many times before, but now it served only to mark their separation. She didn’t trust him, and why would she? “Well, perhaps you should sleep on it for tonight, and decide what to do in the morning.”

She nodded. “That sounds like a much better plan.”

“Do you have a good tarp for the cart?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine here.”

He paused. “I’ll just go back to my camp then, and I’ll see what you think in the morning.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

When Loki burrowed back into his bedroll and closed his eyes, it was no effort at all to bring up that first image from so long ago — another lifetime, it seemed like.

The bright sunshine. The banners fluttering in a light breeze over the viewing stands.

Loki’s elbow poked Fandral in the ribs. “Who is that?”

“Ow! Who?” The two sparring partners were re-adjusting their armor before the second round of the tourney.

“That girl over there by the healer’s tent.” Loki’s chin nudged up to point across the field.

“What? Sigyn? That Eir’s ward.”

“Eir’s ward? Why haven’t I seen her before?”

Fandral snorted. “Eir keeps her on a tight leash.”

Loki flashed him a dubious look. “She hardly looks like a delicate flower.”

Fandral snorted again. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. Mamma Eir would’t let Sigyn come out to a tourney until she could be sure she wouldn’t haul off and punch one of Frigga’s handmaids.”

“What?”

“She’s got a temper nearly as bad as your brother’s — touch that crossbow wrong and you’ll get a bolt right between the eyes.”

“And how would you know?”

Fandral strategically turned his head. “No reason.”

Loki smacked his shoulder. “Ha! I can guess.” The two finished fiddling with their buckles before Loki started up again, a little offhandedly. “She’s an odd looking one — look at that hair — all of those wild curls. What is she? She can’t be Aesir.”

“She sticks out, that’s for sure — her eyes, too, this odd mix of green and brown.” He shrugged dismissively. “Who knows where she’s from. All I know is to avoid her.”

“Indeed. She looks as if she’d even give Sif a good run. She’s built as though she’d make a proper Valkyrie. I’m surprised Thor hasn’t noticed her.”

“Oh, he has,” Fandral got a mischievous look in his eyes, “but she’s got a wit sharp enough to match her temper. She might even give you a run. Thor won’t try sampling that brew again!”

Just then a petite little blond emerged from the tent and whispered in Sigyn’s ear. “Oh I see exactly why you know all of this.” He looked at Fandral just in time to catch him give a tiny little wave at the girl. “You’ve been hanging out in the healing rooms, haven’t you?”

“Lurking while I try to avoid the Valkyrie, more like. Anna’s her best friend, and apparently Sigyn has decided that my intentions are less than honorable.”

“Oh ho! So she is a smart one!”

“And fiercely protective.” Fandral’s mouth screwed up with chagrin as he caught Sigyn glaring at him.

“You should introduce us.”

“Not I, my friend. You’ll have to find some other ambassador — she won’t accept a white flag from me.”

*****

 _No._ Loki sighed to himself in the dark _. She never accepted a white flag from anyone. No one but me._

*****

By morning, the road was buried and travel back to town would clearly be a problem — a matter of days slogging through snow on foot. Stella warily agreed to go with Loki in the hopes that the early snow would clear off after a bit so she could make her way back. If nothing else, Loki promised, he could fill a pack with supplies to make the hike less of a hardship. “I have plenty of foodstuff put back for the winter, and I have a few gadgets that would help — electric hand and foot warmers to keep off frost bite.” She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and he explained, “I’m a bit of a tinkerer, and as I said, I have a wind generator to power up a few small conveniences.”

They loaded what they could of her gear, including the sewing-kit-sized mystery box, onto Loki’s handcart — small flatbed rigged with a slight power-assist to the wheels to ease it’s heavy load over the rough trail — and started the trek through the trees. He led the way, fighting like Orpheus to keep his eyes forward rather than turn and stare. _Over 100 years I’ve waited in this backwater. So close!_ The quiet trudge through the trees at least afforded him some time to form a plan, to think about how best to recover her memories without shocking her system.

The walk to his home was not far, just a couple of hours, on the far side of a hill. The view as they rounded the path into the valley, however, was startling. From the road the entire area looked as though it were deserted for miles around, yet hidden behind the hill was the largest structure she had ever seen. “It **that** your home?”

“Hardly. That isn’t fit for habitation — it’s an abandoned temple. My residence is just to the east there.” She followed the line of his finger and made out the roof of a stone house poking up out of the trees.

“I see.”

As they got closer to the two structures, Loki asked her, “Would you like to take a look inside the temple before we have lunch?”

“Maybe we could walk through after we’ve settled.”

“Later, then.”

It would be a risk, taking her there — returning to the scene of the crime, as it were. The Norns alone knew what trauma lingered from the catastrophe that destroyed this place and flung her through time and space. Who knew what revisiting them might awaken, or break. But he still harbored that much selfishness. He needed her to find him, to dig out her memories from beneath whatever horror they had been buried under. Perhaps waiting a bit longer would be best, but it was a hard concession to make.

As they neared the grounds close to the house, they came to a spot where the trail curved around and travelers would remain hidden from the windows. Loki asked Stella to wait there for a bit, while he checked on something, and he left the path to circle around to the other side of the residence. Once out of sight, he rendered himself invisible, and light-footed enough to avoid leaving imprints in the snow. Under this cover, he made a careful circuit of the grounds, checking various silent triggers that would warn him of any uninvited guests. Only when he was certain he hadn’t entertained any visitors while he had been gone, did he go back to bring Stella home.

 _Home!_ He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. _We have no home. No one who knows us will accept us as their own._

The house was dark and cold when they arrived, and Stella helped Loki bring wood to start a fire in the kitchen stove. Initially she watched as he unpacked his dry goods and stored them in the cupboards, but soon she began to fidget. While he stowed his supplies, she filled the kettle with water, searched up the teapot, and wiped out cups. She swiped down the trestle table, and dug some biscuits out of her own supplies. By the time Loki came back up from the cellar, Stella sat with her hands curled around a steaming cup, while a second place setting waited on the table opposite her own.

He stopped short at the scene, and suddenly remembered something he’d left undone in the cellar. When he returned a few minutes later, he was able to meet her gaze straight on.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been staring. Should I be worried?“

 _Always right to the point, aren’t you?_ “Sorry. Obviously I don’t get much company, my social graces don’t get much exercise.” He thought for a minute before continuing, “You just remind me of someone.”

“Oh?”

“That goon back there . . . he said something about your being brought into Wy by an old woman. Are you not from around here?”

She smiled ironically. “That’s a more difficult question than you might think.”

“Oh?” and it was his turn to arch an eyebrow.

She got an odd smile on her face that opened up the ache in his chest once more. “I will tell you my story, if you tell me who I remind you of.”

Loki dropped his eyes to the trail of steam curling up from his tea, wondering how much to say, how much he could poke at her memories without convincing her he was crazy, or without sending her away screaming as she remembered too much too quickly. As he thought, he absently ran his fingers over the scars on his lips.

“My wife. I was married once. You look so very much like her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just . . . it’s difficult not to stare. Your face brings back so many memories.”

“What was her name?”

“Sigyn.”

She cocked her head at that, and scrunched her brow.“Sigyn? You’re parents weren’t the only ones fascinated by legends, then?”

He smiled ruefully before melancholy washed over his face when the name failed to trigger any further reaction.

“You miss her.”

“More than the wide world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is an allusion to Book 1 of Milton's Paradise Lost, when Satan awakes in the great burning lake of Hell, rears up, and makes his way to the shore:
> 
> Forthwith upright he rears from off the Pool  
> His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames  
> Drivn backward slope thir pointing spires, and rowld  
> In billows, leave i'th' midst a horrid Vale.  
> Then with expanded wings he stears his flight  
> Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air  
> That felt unusual weight, till on dry Land  
> He lights, if it were Land that ever burn'd  
> With solid, as the Lake with liquid fire;  
> And such appear'd in hue, as when the force  
> Of subterranean wind transports a Hill  
> Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side  
> Of thundring Ætna, whose combustible  
> And fewel'd entrals thence conceiving Fire,  
> Sublim'd with Mineral fury, aid the Winds,  
> And leave a singed bottom all involv'd  
> With stench and smoak: Such resting found the sole  
> Of unblest feet.


	2. Before -- I struck the board and cry'd, No more!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not-so-merry meeting.  
> A bit of a flashback.

The young woman eyed Loki suspiciously as he stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to see Eir,” came the curt reply.

She rolled her eyes before she bothered to answer, “She’s at the tourney. You’ll have to make due with me.” She waved into the room and directed him to a padded exam chair.

He scowled and crossed his arms. “No. I need to see Eir.”

“Too bad. She won’t be back for hours. They need her to tend to all of your friends when they crack open each others’ skulls.”

Loki scanned his obstacle from head to toe — tall, sturdy, pragmatically dressed with an utterly nonplussed, confident stance. _Arrogant._

“No. I’m not here to deal with an apprentice.”

She scowled darkly. “ _Journeyman_ ,” she corrected, turning her back to return to a desk at the far side of the room. “Suit yourself. You can wait here or come back later, but Eir is stuck out on the field for at least another two hours until your brother gets tired of beating everyone up.”

Loki scowled back at her. “Fine. I’ll wait.” _And make you as miserable as I can while I do it._

And wait he did. Settling himself with a wince into the exam chair, he glared at her, vulture-like, as she first pored over documents of neat columns, then moved to match the lists with rows of bottles on the shelves — all while steadfastly ignoring him. His scowl darkened, then evolved into a tiny little grin.

He lifted a finger a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly. A bottle shifted, trading places with its neighbor.

Sigyn frowned when their places didn’t match her list, and moved them back.

He did it again, a few rows down.

Sigyn paused.

The bottles moved themselves back.

Now Loki frowned.

Loki crossed two fingers and lifted them from the arm rest. One of the bottles changed colors.

Two minutes later, it changed back.

The print on a label became illegible.

A minute later, the words resolved themselves.

A bottle tipped over and began to roll off the shelf.

Halfway to the floor it stopped abruptly and returned to its place.

After a half hour, she’d had enough. Climbing down from her step ladder, she turned to face him and snapped, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather tell me what you’re here for?”

“No. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be scrubbing latrines? I’m sure I could arrange that.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Is that a line you use with all the girls? No wonder they’re all queued up outside your chamber door.”

“Listen, bottle washer, if you can’t demonstrate a better bedside manner, I don’t think you’ll last long as a ‘journeyman’ healer, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Ah, yes. Now I see exactly why you’re so famous for your silken tongue. Quite the charmer you are. Stew all you like; I won’t be leaving this job anytime soon, especially not because some entitled snot decides he’s gotten his ego wounded — I’ve dealt with your kind before. I know my job, and I’m damn good at it.” She grabbed her pen and a sheaf of papers. “Wait here or not. I’ve got to finish the inventory in the other room. Try not to break anything by frowning at it too aggressively.”

She was gone before he’d even drawn breath to retort.

*****

After two hours of brooding, Loki heard voices in the hallway, and then the healer walked into the room followed closely by her journeyman. The latter stood back by the door after she closed it, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes resolutely on her teacher, jaw clenched tight.

Eir stopped next to her patient, scanning his face, attempting a diagnosis before he even opened his mouth. “Your Highness.” She dropped a perfunctory curtsey. “How can we help you?”

“Not with her in the room.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not with her in the room. I wish to deal only with you.”

Eir turned on the young woman with a patronizing tone, “Oh Sigyn, what have you done now?”

The only reply she got was a derisive laugh and a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously. Could you not, for once, reign in your temper?”

“I _did_. Do you see any broken glassware? I think I restrained myself remarkably well. ‘His highness,’ king of courtesy such as he is, deserved a much colder welcome than he got, in my opinion.”

Eir huffed. “Child, what am I going to do with you?”

Sigyn rolled her eyes and conceded, “I’ll wait in the hall until you need me.”

Once she closed the door, Eir turned back to address her patient, “Now. What may I help you with?”

Loki took a heartbeat or two to re-group after watching that exchange, digesting how easily the two women interacted, and how smoothly Eir reacted to her journeyman’s obvious transgressions. After filing it away for future reference, he got on with business. Slowly — gingerly — Loki peeled off his tunic to reveal a large patch of neat bandages just under his collarbone.

Eir glanced at him quickly for his permisssion, and carefully pulled these back, revealing an ugly, festering sore. She scrunched her brows together. “Is this from . . .”

“Yes.”

“It’s twice the size of the original wound. This should have healed weeks ago.”

He didn’t bother to respond, and she delicately began cleaning around the weeping sore.

“Poison?”

“Obviously.”

“I would have thought you wouldn’t have a problem with that. You’ve been studying potions for years now. What have you tried?”

He grimaced at that, ticking off the list of remedies he had applied. “I can’t identify it. Nothing has helped. Why do you think I’m here?”

Eir scrunched her brow, poking at the edges, smelling the fluid she had wiped away. “Sigyn! Can you come back in here?”

Loki scoffed, “I didn’t come here to be pestered by a journeyman.”

Eir smiled as Sigyn made her way back to their patient. “Sometimes, your highness, the student surpasses the master.”

Loki sat stoically while the two women conferred. Sigyn listened closely as the older woman repeated the remedies Loki had described as ineffective. “You have a knack for this sort of thing, Sigyn, do you have any ideas?”

“When did the injury occur?”

Loki actually barked out loud, “You can’t possibly _not_ know.”

She raised a sarcastic eyebrow before looking back up at Eir who now rolled _her_ eyes as she reminded her student, “Do you not remember that mess at court last month?”

“Mmmmmm . . .” Sigyn closed one eye as she thought back. “Oh. Oh! That?” Her eyes got wide as she remembered.

“Yes, child, that.” Eir threw a quick look at her patient. “She doesn’t get out much.”

“Apparently not.”

Sigyn threw him yet another annoyed glare, then she plowed ahead with her inquiry, “So it’s been an entire month since this happened?”

He nodded.

Sigyn looked up at her teacher. “I think I know few places to look.”

“I thought you might. I’ll just be in the back room if you need me.”

“Hmmm,” was all the reply she got, as Sigyn had already started browsing the shelves in search of a particular volume.

Loki remained sceptical and craned his neck to catch Eir before she left. “If she’s so skilled, why did she not go with you to the tournament today?”

Eir scoffed as she stepped back over to address him, “Can you imagine Sigyn helping Fandral with a broken leg?”

Loki paused for a minute before he looked up at the woman in question, and a slow evil grin spread over his face. “Yes. Yes, I can.”

Sigyn finally cracked a smile at that, puffing out an amused breath, and Eir smacked Loki on his uninjured shoulder as she left the room. “You’re horrible.”

But just like that a switch flipped, his bright smile vanishing into a sour expression. He muttered under his breath, “Right you are, ‘horrible.’ Cursed, in fact.” He caught Sigyn with a bitter stare, “Haven’t you heard?”

She held his gaze for a minute, somber, before she moved to pull a book off the shelf, and find the entry she sought.

After she leafed through the pages for a few minutes, Sigyn walked around to his left so she could get a closer look, her tone brusque and impatient when she addressed him, “Here, sit up so I can see your whole shoulder.”

“Sigyn!” The rebuke came in through the open door, “Decorum, girl!”

The younger woman rolled her eyes. “Fine. ‘Your Highness’ would you please be so gracious as to sit up so I can inspect the wound more closely.” The words were correct, though the tone left a bit to be desired from a technical standpoint.

“Better,” called the voice from beyond. Loki mostly supressed a little smirk as he shifted.

Sigyn noticed the smirk. She pursed her lips and the sarcasm intensified, “‘Your Highness,’ may I please have your permission to examine the wound with my peasant fingers?”

The hidden voice piped up once more, “Sigyn!”

The young woman sighed the sigh of the long suffering before palpating the skin around the wound, then fanning her fingers out and running her hands over his shoulder, across his shoulder blade and then down his arm. Loki barely suppressed a shiver at the unexpected tenderness of her touch.

If she noticed, Sigyn gave no sign. Instead, she knit her brows together, puzzling, as she brought his hand up close to her face for inspection, oblivious to his gaze. Abruptly, she leaned over and picked up his other hand, rubbing at the fingers. She grumbled, “You’re hiding something.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed and he abruptly withdrew his hands from hers.

The younger healer’s face turned distainful, and her tone — if possible — even more sarcastic. “‘Oh. Sorry!’ Let me re-phrase that. ‘Your Highness’ would you please be so gracious as to remove the illusion from your arm so I can actually see what’s wrong with it?”

“What exactly are you implying?” Loki’s voice dropped a full register as he swung his legs over the the side of the chair, and moved threateningly into her personal space.

She never flinched, just narrowed her eyes in increased irritation. “I’m implying, ‘your highness’ that you’re lying to your physician. I cannot help you if you withhold data. Your left arm is cold, much colder than your right. Remove the illusion.”

“You need to learn a bit more respect for your betters, _journeyman_.”

“GREAT ODIN’S BALLS!!!” Sigyn swept her arm aside, and across the room the piles of paerwork and bottles littering the desk flew off onto the floor. “You spoiled aristocrats are all the same! You’ve got half a foot over Vallhallah’s threshold and you withold information because you’re too embarrassed to let a _peasant_ see what the real problem is!”

“SIGYN!” Eir swept like a stormcloud into the room, while Loki sat mute — not a position he found himself in often.

At the older woman’s rebuke, Sigyn’s tirade cut off, but another jerk of her arm sent the now bare desk up and over onto its side, then she turned away as her hands clenched in tight fists while she worked for control.

As Eir reached Loki’s side, she adopted her most conciliatory tone, “You see, your highness, why she doesn’t go to public events. Sigyn takes her job a little too seriously, and has yet to recognize niceties of social class or etiquette.”

The young woman in question turned back once more to face them, only slightly less incensed, and let fly, “A body is a body. Disease and poison don’t care if he’s prince or a beggar. He’s going to die if I —” Eir raised an eyebrow, “if _we_ don’t discover the proper treatment.” At Loki’s grumbling, she rounded on him again, “Do you see that wound getting any smaller? What, _exactly_ , happened? What sort of weapon did he use? What does your arm _really_ look like? I can’t find the proper treatment if you’re hiding symptoms.”

A long stretch of silence settled on the them after that declaration. Loki glared as he searched Sigyn’s face as he calculated — everything had become a calculation since the attack. Sigyn crossed her arms and glared back at him during this scrutiny. Eir, in turn, glared at her student, willing her to keep quiet.

Finally, Loki swung his legs back up onto the chair. “I can’t show you the blade, because Odin destroyed it.” Then he leaned back into the cushions as a soft green glow swept over the left side of his face and down his arm. His expression transformed into a blank mask, waiting for the gasp, the scream.

His whole arm took on the blue of a frost giant’s complexion. Starting at the edges of the wound and radiating outward, the color spread upward to spider over the lower left of his face, and downward to the ends of his nails which had turned black. Sigyn ran her eyes over the transformation for a few moments, then stepped close to take up his hand once more. He fliched away, hissing, “Don’t touch it.” She swore she caught the barest hint a fear flicker across his face before the stoicism returned.

Holding out her hand, she took a half step back, and waited for him to reach out. Again, he scanned her face. “You will have to put on gloves,” he explained, “or you will get frostbite.”

She nodded, her voice suddenly quiet, “Fine. That’s fine. At least now I can help you.”

*****

Hours later, Loki pulled his tunic back over the re-bandaged wound, the illusion once more disguising his Jotun skin, while Sigyn returned her books to their proper places. Eir had left on an errand of her own, once she assured herself that her student wasn’t going to break anything else, or get thrown in prison. The two younger people seemed to have agreed to a sort of truce once Sigyn had gotten to work, and once Loki finally conceded grudging respect for her intellect and skill.

Now that the earlier tension dissipated, Loki found himself relutant to leave, and he searched for a way to prolong his visit. “Who is it that teaches you seider?”

It seemed an innocent enough question, but as Sigyn made her way back down a step ladder, her reply was unexpectedly clipped,“No one.”

“No one? I find that hard to believe, with strength like yours, you need to be taught how to control it. Your parents must be aware of how dangerous it is. You could do almost anything without meaning to.”

She clenched her jaw and grabbed another book before she replied, “Not all of us are blessed with wealth.” She quickly turned back to the wall of shelves.

He chose to ignore her defensiveness and plowed on, “It’s got nothing to do with wealth; they have a responsibility — you could seriously injure yourself — and others,” and here he gestured at the still overturned desk.

She rounded on him, slamming a book down on a table. “It has everything to do with wealth. Do you have any idea how expensive that sort of training is? No. Of course you don’t, because you’ve never actually had to handle the money that pays for the food you eat, the clothes you wear, or the education you’ve gotten. The only reason I train _here_ is because I am Eir’s ward, not because my parents left me the fortune I would otherwise need to shovel out in order to study under her expertise. I am a charity case. I receive clothing, room, and board at Eir’s grace, because she pitied me. There is no money for other studies. Don’t lecture me about responsibility.” She took a step toward him with a finger pointed at his chest. “Don’t criticize my parents, who did the best they could to place me in decent care before they died.”

He took a breath to defend himself, and she cut him off again. “And don’t you dare say a word against Eir, to whom I owe _everything_.”

She drew herself up to her fairly impressive height. “Excuse me, ‘your highness,’ since we are done with your treatment for today, I believe I should probably leave before I again demonstrate how ‘irresponsible and uncontrollable’ I am. Make sure you remember to come back in two days, so Eir can re-check your treatment.”

Sigyn swept out of the room and down the hall, and as he listened to the drumbeat of her boots on the stone floor, he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

“That girl has clearly missed her calling,” he told the empty room. “She should have been a Valkyrie, not a healer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title quotes the first line of a poem by George Herbert, "The Collar."  
> I struck the board, and cried, "No more;  
>  I will abroad!  
> What? shall I ever sigh and pine?  
> My lines and life are free, free as the road,  
> Loose as the wind, as large as store.  
>  Shall I be still in suit?  
> Have I no harvest but a thorn  
> To let me blood, and not restore  
> What I have lost with cordial fruit?  
>  Sure there was wine  
> Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn  
>  Before my tears did drown it.  
>  Is the year only lost to me?  
>  Have I no bays to crown it,  
> No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted?  
>  All wasted?  
> Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,  
>  And thou hast hands.  
> Recover all thy sigh-blown age  
> On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute  
> Of what is fit and not. Forsake thy cage,  
>  Thy rope of sands,  
> Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee  
> Good cable, to enforce and draw,  
>  And be thy law,  
> While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.  
>  Away! take heed;  
>  I will abroad.  
> Call in thy death's-head there; tie up thy fears;  
>  He that forbears  
>  To suit and serve his need  
>  Deserves his load."  
> But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild  
>  At every word,  
> Methought I heard one calling, Child!  
>  And I replied My Lord.


	3. Like gold to airy thinness beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up the conversation at the exact spot it was interrupted by chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She got an odd smile on her face that opened up the ache in his chest once more. “I will tell you my story, if you tell me who I remind you of.”

A long pause had ensued after he told her of his wife. They sat in silence while he recovered his composure once more. But he knew progress could only be made if he possessed as much information as possible — when had she re-appeared after the blast? Where had she re-materialized? Why had he not felt it — or seen it?

He took a deep breath as he opened up the discussion, “Your turn. How did you end up in Wy?”

“Hum, yes. I did promise an explanation, didn’t I?”

Loki poured her another cup of tea, while Stella thought how to begin.

“The old lady Alric mentioned is Elsbeth, a wise woman who lives in Wy.”

Loki nodded. “I know her. Well, I know of her.”

“Last fall she was returning from the coast — on the same errand I was on just now, in fact — and she found me.”

“Found you?”

“Um . . . yeah. Me and that box, by the side of the road, not far from where we were yesterday, in fact — which is a very odd coincidence.” She looked at him just a little suspiciously. When he only responded with raised eyebrows, she continued, “I was unconscious, bruised, my clothes singed, and limbs every which way, according to Elsbeth’s account. She stopped and did what she could to nurse my wounds. She stayed with me, in fact, for several hours until I regained conciousness enough to help her get me into her wagon. She loaded up everything that lay about me, since she wasn’t sure what was important and what not, and she brought me into Wy. She took care of me while I healed, and I have tried to repay her by helping her in her work, and doing little odd jobs that she no longer can.”

“And where were you before that?”

She screwed up her face before she replied, “Well, that’s the problem, actually, I don’t know. I remember how to work my calling. I remember the herbs and what each is for. I remember anatomy. I remember everything I ever learned about diseases and injuries. I remember how to cook and sew and braid hair. But I don’t remember who I am, or where I came from, or how I got to that patch of forest floor where she found my battered carcass. Nothing.”

She paused and smiled a sad little smile before she went on, “Elsbeth is the one who decided to call me Stella, because, she said . . . because it was like I had fallen from the stars. I have no idea what my real name is. I suppose that’s the other reason I have stayed in Wy — I wouldn’t know where else to go.”

“‘Just there,’ you said — right by the road, right there?”

She nodded her head.

“A year ago?”

She nodded again, and Loki walked over to the stove, poking at the fire to hide his agitation. He added another chunk of wood to the embers and knelt to stare into the crackling flames. When he closed his eyes his brain manufactured a flawless image of her sprawled next to the road broken, alone.

_Where was I? Why did I not hear anything, sense anything? Decades! Decades I have waited in this stupid house next to that hideous temple, only to miss her arrival entirely. I have lost an entire year!_

And even now that he had her right here at his kitchen table, he didn’t really have her at all. He had once sworn that their souls were but two sides of the same gold coin. Yet here was proof — as if he had ever needed it — that even love fails to erase that final distance between two minds. We can approach half the distance, then half again, and then another half, but there is always a thin line that remains at the last that keeps us from knowing another entirely — a thin line that now seemed like an immeasureable gulf.

“Loki?”

He startled out of his reverie. Smiling feebly as he returned to his seat, he fumbled for something to say that might cover his agitation. “That’s such an odd tale,” he finally blurted out, then he offered, “You know, I am not a healer,” _far from it!_ “but I am a collector of odd bits and pieces of archane studies. I’ve managed to collect a decent library in which we could do a bit of searching. Perhaps we can find suggestions as to how your memories can be recovered. We could start searching the shelves this evening after you’ve seen the temple.”

Her eyes lit up when he mentioned the books. “I would like that, regardless of whether we find a remedy! Books! Elsbeth’s craft is wholly from an oral tradition. She isn’t much of a reader. The smell of books, the feel of their pages, that’s one thing I do remember. I miss that very much. Mmmm . . . that will certainly give me something to look forward to.”

He echoed her smile, soaking up her glow, the way that tiny scar disappeared into the tiny crinkles at the corner of her eye, the little uptick at the start of her sigh that was followed by a steady glissando downward, the little cloud of frizz that had escaped her braid and gone wild from the wind and snow on their journey, the one stray corkscrew curl that she never seemed able to capture, the way she closed her eyes anticipating that little bookish adventure. He drank in all those quirks that marked her as her until he almost drowned in them. He dropped his gaze when she opened her eyes once more, and hid his expression with a deep drink of his cooling tea.

Still grinning, Stella picked up the conversation once more. “Well, now that you know pretty much everything I can tell you about myself, I should like to know a bit more about you — especially if I’m going to be stuck here for a few days until the weather clears. For one thing, why do you live out in the middle of nowhere?”

“I suppose you could say that I like my privacy. I, ah, don’t really fit in well with many people.”

“And why is that?” It could easily have been read as a challenge, but her eyes twinkled when she said it.

“Well, my name seems to put people off, for one thing, as you said, the only tales about the old gods to survive in these parts are about The Event. And you must admit my appearance is . . . odd compared with the local population.” His mouth quirked upward and she blushed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I had been staring.”

“It would be hard not to.” He ran his fingers over the marks on and around his lips, then he smirked. “Between the scars and my stunning good looks, I tend to stick out in a crowd.”

“Ha!” She barked out a laugh at that, catching his sparkling eyes with her own before remembering herself and looking back down at her hands. “I suppose we have that much in common, then — I tend to stick out, as well. Folks around here are pretty insular. I am too tall, apparently, and my hair,” she smoothed her hands over her head, “I can’t say I’ve seen anyone with anything like it, even on the coast.” He nodded in sympathy and she went on a little more quietly, “and the magic tends to unnerve a lot of people, even though most of them are familiar with a bit of kitchen magic.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “Most people have trouble with anything that doesn’t fit into their neat little boxes. I don’t really have that problem.” As he said it, he held her gaze and gave her a sly grin, then with a gesture raised the teapot and re-filled her cup. “Magic doesn’t bother me much.”

Her eyes widened at his demonstration, then she laughed, “Ha! You fucking sneaky bastard! You live up to your name, don’t you?”

“I do my best. Shall we carry your things upstairs? Then we can concoct a proper meal for ourselves.”

After he had shown her to the spare room, Loki went back down to the kitchen to pull together a meal of some sort. His movements, though, were barely above mechanical as he pondered his situation. The possiblilities seemed depressing, indeed, and his mind raced with a wild jumble of questions: _What if she never remembers? What will we do if Amora is still alive? And what of the two of us? Sigyn could be an entirely different person without that history — without_ our _history. What could possibly convince her to stay with a monster such as myself?_ He stopped short at that, remembering events that he had managed to forget for years. _I am not what I am._

When he brought them forward, the memories of the attack felt more like open wounds than scars — still fresh, even after so many years. It had changed everything.

He remembered the delegation from Jotunheim as it sauntered slowly through the columns of the great hall toward Odin’s dais, sending slight tremours through the marble floor as they went. The giants dwarfed their Aesir hosts, and gazed down at the honor gaurd distainfully as they approached the throne.

Hundreds of years had passed since the last contact between the two races — a bloody war that had raged for years and lain waste to Jotunheim’s urban centers and population. The Jotuns visited Asgard now claiming to want more open, peaceful relations. Just weeks earlier a message found its way to the royal court. “ _Allfather_ ,” the solicitous greeting had read, “ _we have spent too many years at odds with one another. Should we not broker a trading relationship for our mutual benefit?”_

And so a cautious invitation had been issued for “ _a small delegation who might spend a day as our honored guests to explore potential areas of cooperation_.”

None really expected things to go well, but one could always hope.

And they had come — not just a couple of low-level flunkies, mind you, but a half dozen of Jotunheim’s finest, led by their king, Laufey himself. Surely that was a good sign.

Dignitaries were introduced. Small talk was made. Token gifts were exchanged.

One would have expected tensions to ease slightly as these early hurdles were passed.

Laufey, however, seemed increasingly ill at ease. Or perhaps “cautious” might be a better word. Or “suspicious”? It was difficult to label precisely the sort of tension that mounted inside him over the course of the day. He scanned faces, comparing this one to that.

And the more Laufey analyzed, the more Odin bristled. He took careful note of each glance, marking on whom Laufey’s gaze lingered, and quietly setting his ravens on watch at the back of the hall.

With increasing frequency, Laufey’s gaze returned to Odin’s sons. At first these were mere occational glances during the afternoon negotiations. Glances, however, increasingly became stares when they broke fast. As they returned to the courtroom before the Jotuns’ departure, Laufey’s eyes darted between the the sun-brightness of Thor and Balder, versus the moon-shimmer of Loki, comparing lips, eyes, brows, and build.

Finally, a decision seemed to have been arrived at, and Laufey moved a bit closer to the broad stairs leading to the throne.

“Allfather, before I take my leave, I must compliment you on your progeny. I have heard much of Thor’s prowess in battle, and of his comanding presence, just as have heard of the impressive presence of the young Balder. I must say, reports seem to have done them justice. Tales of your younger son, too, have reached me, of his sharp eyes and sharper intellect. I wonder, though, about how different they seem. Not like relations at all. Loki is so unlike . . . well . . . unlike everyone here.”

Odin stood, pausing long before he replied, “Exactly what is it you mean to imply?”

Laufey stepped forward once more, until he positioned himself directly in front of Loki, who now stood stiff with mistrust and rage, his heart pounding. Thor tensed from where he watched on the opposite step. The court seemed paralyzed by Laufey’s bizarre words.

Laufey’s voice dropped to a whisper, as he addressed Loki directly, “You are so different than the other Aesir. I have puzzled over it from the moment I saw you. But I believe I have worked it out now.”

Laufey turned his eyes again to Odin raising his voice once more. “It was in the temple, was it not? That was where you found him . . . where you saved his pitiful life and brought him here. So kindhearted of you, to offer such charity to a malnourished little monster.” And when Odin’s mouth dropped open, Laufey grinned maniacally.

“Yes. That explains everything, everything that has haunted our lives since then, every disaster that has struck at us.” Suddenly his voice turned harsh, more like a growl than sentient expression as he turned once more to Loki. “You are **my** progeny, not Odin’s—but you were so tiny — your existance was as a curse on my house, and your life was meant to be sacrificed to ensure our victory. Your continued breath is a harbinger of ill-luck and disaster. But this shall be corrected now.”

Before his racing heart could finish its next beat, Loki crashed to his knees, blood pouring out of a searing wound in his shoulder, and his face splattered with gore as Thor’s hammer crushed Laufey’s skull even before the giant’s hand had released his dagger.

Loki looked up to Odin who stared back, dumbfounded, silent. Only the queen moved to help him, as the rest of the court erupted in chaos, Jotuns lashing out as they were rushed by Aesir warriors. Seconds before losing consciousness, Loki looked back down at his hands, now covered in his own blood, horror struck as his left hand darkened to blue.

*****

Loki leaned back against the kitchen table as those images re-played over and over in his head, and he rubbed his shoulder absently. _The monster must learnover again how to woo his bride._ He sighed in frustration. _I have no idea how happened the first time. How in Hel’s name will I manage it a second?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like gold to airy thinnes beat" -- this is a line from the John Donne poem "Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" -- one of the most beautiful love poems in the English language.
> 
> As virtuous men pass mildly away,  
> And whisper to their souls to go,  
> Whilst some of their sad friends do say  
> The breath goes now, and some say, No:
> 
> So let us melt, and make no noise,  
> No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;  
> 'Twere profanation of our joys  
> To tell the laity our love.
> 
> Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,  
> Men reckon what it did, and meant;  
> But trepidation of the spheres,  
> Though greater far, is innocent.
> 
> Dull sublunary lovers' love  
> (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit  
> Absence, because it doth remove  
> Those things which elemented it.
> 
> But we by a love so much refined,  
> That our selves know not what it is,  
> Inter-assured of the mind,  
> Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
> 
> Our two souls therefore, which are one,  
> Though I must go, endure not yet  
> A breach, but an expansion,  
> Like gold to airy thinness beat.
> 
> If they be two, they are two so  
> As stiff twin compasses are two;  
> Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show  
> To move, but doth, if the other do.
> 
> And though it in the center sit,  
> Yet when the other far doth roam,  
> It leans and hearkens after it,  
> And grows erect, as that comes home.
> 
> Such wilt thou be to me, who must,  
> Like th' other foot, obliquely run;  
> Thy firmness makes my circle just,  
> And makes me end where I begun.


	4. Before: “We’re tapers too, and at our own cost die”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback. Loki returns to the healers' rooms for the follow-up treatment after the attack.

When Loki next arrived at the healers’, he was greeted by Eir alone. “Where is your journeyman?”

“Sigyn just left to run some errands, your highness. She said she had to get some things from the apothecary’s. Here.” She handed him a largish cup. “She mixed this up before she left, and said you were to drink the whole of it.”

Loki took the cup and sniffed cautiously, scrunching up his nose at the smell. “What is it?”

“I’m sure she wrote down the recipe somewhere; I can ask her to have a copy sent to you, if you like.”

He twirled it around a bit trying to puzzle out its contents based on what he could see. He sniffed at it again, and Eir chuckled. “It’s safe,” she assured him. “Sigyn knows her business, and I trust her implicitly.”

Still, he thought he would buy himself a bit more time by asking a few questions. “You said she never goes to the tourneys, but I’m sure I saw her there once. Why did she stop going?”

Eir heaved a heavy sigh, though her mouth quirked up a tiny bit as she responded. “There was a bit of an incident.”

“An incident?” 

She gestured at him to drink up, refusing to continue until he did so. He made a face, but as soon as he took a sip, Eir began to explain, “According to Sigyn, Balder came to the healers’ tent for help with a knee injury, ‘leaning heavily on some pretty thing’s shoulder’ — her words, mind you. The lady started picking on one of the apprentices —Anna — insulting her clothes, snapping at her for not being properly deferential. That was bad enough, mind you, Sigyn is fiercely loyal, and protective to a fault. I’m frankly surprised she let things go as long as she did. Anyway, the more it went on, the more flustered the poor girl got. Anna dropped something. When she stooped to pick it up, Balder’s hands found their way to an inappropriate spot. That made her spill something on the lady’s dress, and she slapped the poor girl across the face. That did it. By the time I arrived, every bone in Balder’s hand was broken, and Amora had just managed to douse the flames on her dress.”

Loki barely managed to swallow without spraying his medicine all over the room. “You’re kidding? Amora? She set Amora’s dress on fire? How is she still here? How is she still alive?”

Eir sobered considerably as she answered. “It was a near thing. Sigyn swears by all that’s sacred that she doesn’t remember starting the fire, and that she never actually touched Balder—not that she would have to if she really wanted to do some damage—you’ve seen that. In the end, I was forced to send Anna back to her parents, though I managed to find her a good position with a local wise woman. Amora tried hard to have Sigyn thrown in prison, sent away, or even flogged. But Sigyn is my ward. She was given special dispensation and permitted to stay under my supervision. Besides, she is simply the best there is, and Frigga knows it, so she interceded. One of the conditions of her release was that Sigyn could never work public events—not that she wanted to, anyway. Now she rarely attends to the nobility at all, unless they’re unconscious. She works mostly with the palace staff and the infantry—that seems to be where she’s picked up some of her more colorful vocabulary.”

“The infantry? Why wasn’t I aware of that?”

“She avoids the officers as much as possible.” Eir smiled ruefully and shrugged. “She’s learned a few colorful descriptors for them, as well.”

“Humph! I’m sure I’ve heard most of them.” He chuckled as he polished of the rest of the mystery drink, closing his eyes and humming as he felt a bit of warmth spread down his arm.

“Frigga is especially fond of her,” Eir added. “She has become your mother’s personal physician.”

He frowned at that, though he kept his eyes closed. “She’s not my mother.”

Eir decided the wiser path was to ignore that. 

After she checked his wound and began to re-apply the bandages, Loki began prodding again. “Sigyn is your ward?”

“Yes.”

“How did that happen? Who are her parents?”

“We don’t know — she’s not Aesir, but that’s all we know. We’ve never seen her father. Her mother just appeared at the Bifrost site — Heimdal hadn’t even opened the bridge — and she was in a very bad way. They brought her here, but she never spoke. Her last act was to give birth. I asked to keep the child because even when she was a babe, I could sense Sigyn’s ability. I felt it when I held her.”

“Why don’t I remember this?”

“You were probably no more than a toddler at the time. I would be surprised if you did.” 

Loki paused before asking one last question, “Why has she not been given seider lessons?”

Eir frowned deeply at his question and snapped at him, “Sigyn is not the only one who needs to learn when to keep their mouth shut.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at that, but it was all the answer he received.

*****

When the time came for his next visit, Loki deliberately arrived early, catching Sigyn while she was still concocting his medicine. Carefully, he poked his head around the corner, trying to get a good look at her while she concentrated on her task. He ran his gaze over her curves, then got tangled in her eyes when she suddenly noticed his presence. 

A sour look washed over her face. “You’re early,” was the only greeting he got.

He flashed her a toothy grin. “Do you not wish to grace me with your presence?”

“No. In fact, I had planned to be gone before you arrived.”

Loki plopped down into the chair with a smirk. “I’m sorry to hear that. I rather looked forward to spending time with the woman who set fire to Amora’s dress. I think I would have laid out a pile of gold to see that.”

Sigyn gaped at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious or not. “Who told you?”

“I did.” Eir entered from the back room, clearly expecting to reign in her charge’s difficult impulses.

“You didn’t!”

“Yes, dear. It’s not like it’s a secret, is it?”

Sigyn turned beet red, and suddenly decided she needed to double check her recipe, mumbling to herself. Loki smiled, and even though she shortly thereafter swept out of the room in a cloud of herbs and lavender, he still felt he’d gained a victory.

*****

Three days later as he arrived outside the healers’ rooms, he overheard a heated discussion from within. “No. I have other things to do, and you’re the one directing his treatment. You will not skip out this time just because he fights back.”

“Eir! You can’t leave me alone with him. I’ll do something horrible. You know I will.”

“I don’t have time for this. He’s your patient. It makes no sense for me to administer a regimin that you’ve devised. You need to make your own observations, and not guess from my second hand descriptions. It’s time you take over. That’s final.”

Loki stepped back as he heard the older woman approach, and narrowly missed having her crash into him as she rounded the corner. She stopped short as she saw him, and gave him a long warning look. “You had _both_ better be on your best behavior. I can’t afford any more broken glassware.”

He watched her disappear around the corner before he finally entered the room. Sigyn stood at the far end, her nose in an enormous book, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. He cleared his throat to warn her of his presence, and took his seat in the exam chair. He heard her take a deep breath before she turned to face him. 

“‘Your Highness’.” She dropped the tiniest courtsey she could manage to match the irony in her voice. “I’ll need to look at the wound . . . and your arm.” She lifted her chin in a challenge.

He rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. Let’s just get through this.” He sat up to take off his tunic, and began struggling to remove the bandages.

Her face softened as she saw him wince. “It’s alright. I can do that for you.” She stepped over to him and carefully snipped the bandages away to reveal the wound. “It looks a bit better, don’t you think? It’s not weeping any longer, and has stopped spreading.”

“Mmmhmm.” He just nodded, trying to keep his tone neutral, knowing what would come next.

She turned to the desk and drew on a pair of gloves that rested there, before she took another breath. “I need you to drop the illusion again. Please.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected courtesy, and she crossed her arms defensively in reaction. “Please?” she repeated.

He breathed out and removed the spell, green light shimmering over him as the illusion dropped, and he waited for the revulsion. 

Sigyn just came back over to look carefully at his arm, her face showing only a neutral professionalism. She first picked up his hand, then worked her way upward until she reached the wound itself. “This seems a bit better, as well, don’t you think? Look at your nails; they were nearly black before, and I don’t think you’re quite so cold.”

He nodded in agreement, but he struggled to match her disinterest as she ran her gloved hand over his skin. The attack had turned him into a pariah, people kept their distance. Just to be touched . . . he fought to keep his eyes from drifting shut, fought to keep himself from wallowing in self-pity. When she turned away to get his medicine, he felt both bereft and relieved.

Sigyn held out a cup for him, smaller than the last one. “Drink this slowly so I can watch what happens as it works into your system,” and she lifted his hand once again after he accepted the cup. 

She settled onto a stool next to him as he sniffed at it. “It smells different this time.”

She offered a half smile, like a peace offering. “I tried to make it taste a little less awful.”

He gave her a dubious look, but began to sip slowly. She swallowed with him as she watched, then one hand kept hold of his while she pulled the glove off her other with her teeth. She kept her eyes on the wound just under his clavicle and reached up with her bare hand. 

He pulled away as she got close. 

“No,” she insisted, “it’s alright, stay still.” Her fingers moved feather-light over the skin next to the wound. 

He felt warmth from the concoction spread out as he drained the cup, and he couldn’t contain a hum of pleasure as it drifted through the muscles of his aching shoulder.

“You feel something, then?”

“Warm.” He let the hand holding the cup drift down to his side, and allowed his head to relax back into the headrest. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth, her touch, and the soothing scent of lavender that always seemed to follow her. 

Sigyn’s hand brushed up over his shoulder, and ran down his arm before finally reaching his fingers. She traced the tendons on the back of his hand, and ran her fingers lightly over his knuckles. While his eyes remained closed, her gaze drifted back up to his face, taking in every detail she could. Her business-like mask dropped briefly, revealing something more complicated — the look a child might get, perhaps, who stands in the dark, staring into a door through which she can never enter. She looked away quickly when he opened his eyes again, but didn’t quite manage to erase the melancholy look that had settled on her features.

Clearing her throat, she moved abruptly to take the cup from his hands and turned to make notes in her book. “It definitely looks as though you’ve begun healing properly. Come back again in another three days, and I’ll have another dose ready for you.” She snapped the book closed and walked briskly out of the room, eyes on the floor, while his own followed her even after she left the room.

*****

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“Hmmm?” It was an absent-minded reply. Sigyn focused on her task as she stood next to him, bending over as she carefully noted the changes in his skin tone since his last visit. “Don’t care about what?”

Before he answered, Loki took in a deep breath, drawing in the characteristic scent that surrounded her like a cloud. 

“You don’t care who I am. _What_ I am.”

She stopped for a minute, scrutinizing his face. He thought he could see something flicker through her eyes, a flash of the sadness that surfaced occasionally during his visits. It quickly disappeared, however, under a mask of professionalism, and she shrugged as she returned to her work. “It’s none of my business.” 

Her deft fingers massaged his hand as she gauged his progress. When she swept her hand up over his forearm, her face hovered close to his skin, watching for physiological reactions to the medication and time. 

Loki clenched the fist of his other hand when goosebumps threatened to break out, and his heart rate increased. Sigyn kept at her task, even as her examination moved further up his arm and his hand wound up maddeningly close to her waist, his face inches from hers, one of her stray corkscrew curls tickling his neck. Turning his head just slightly, he traced the lines of her face as she too studiously concentrated on her work. His gaze flitted down to her mouth as she tensed her lips in thought.

He mirrored the action, and then clenched his jaw before carefully closing the doors of the room with his seider. She stopped at that, and as she turned her head to face him, she seemed surprised that her nose practically grazed his cheek. Her warm breath puffed over his neck.

His voice came low, quiet. “I’ve been coming here for three weeks now. You never flinch. You never hesitate. You . . .” He let out a small breath that moved the lock of hair that had escaped her braid. “You never tense up when you turn your back on me.”

She shrugged again, but found her mouth dry for some reason, and she swallowed, waiting for him to finish. 

“For the last two months, I have lived in a bubble. Everywhere I go, crowds part around me. They cross to the other side of the hall; they turn the corner when they see me, or they just reverse direction. I can see the tension in their shoulders when they turn away, as if they expect a knife in the back. At meals, the chairs next to me remain empty, except when Thor fills them, because he has to. Not you. You don’t care. Why don’t you care?”

Another roll of her shoulders and her eyes flicked over his face. “You are who you are.”

“I am a curse.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “No.”

“I am a monster.”

Sigyn’s mouth turned up slightly. “And I am a foundling. But while I can be a raging bilgesnipe and you can be an arrogant pig, that hardly qualifies either of us as monsters.”

He caught her as she turned to get back to work, pulling her to look at him once more. Then both hands came up to hold her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks, fingers fanning out to rest on her neck. Unbalanced, Sigyn fell forward and had to brace her hands on either side of his head as he pulled her close. As their lips met, her eyes dropped shut. When they finally broke the kiss, she sighed deeply, and they stayed just like that, breathing each others’ breath, the world shrunk down into the tiny space between them as they memorized each others’ eyes. Sigyn blinked once, then closed her eyes again, and leaned in to brush the side of his nose with her own — then she smirked, “Oh, ‘your highness,’ this is such a colossal mistake.”

“Yes.”

“No one could possibly approve.”

“No.”

She moved a hand to his neck, as she sank down to perch on the edge of his chair. “I don’t think I care.”

He pulled her close for another kiss. “I’m sure that I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a line from John Donne's poem, "The Canonization":
> 
> For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,  
>  Or chide my palsy, or my gout,  
> My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout,  
>  With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,  
>  Take you a course, get you a place,  
>  Observe his honor, or his grace,  
> Or the king's real, or his stampèd face  
>  Contemplate; what you will, approve,  
>  So you will let me love.
> 
> Alas, alas, who's injured by my love?  
>  What merchant's ships have my sighs drowned?  
> Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?  
>  When did my colds a forward spring remove?  
>  When did the heats which my veins fill  
>  Add one more to the plaguy bill?  
> Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still  
>  Litigious men, which quarrels move,  
>  Though she and I do love.
> 
> Call us what you will, we are made such by love;  
>  Call her one, me another fly,  
> We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,  
>  And we in us find the eagle and the dove.  
>  The phœnix riddle hath more wit  
>  By us; we two being one, are it.  
> So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.  
>  We die and rise the same, and prove  
>  Mysterious by this love.
> 
> We can die by it, if not live by love,  
>  And if unfit for tombs and hearse  
> Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;  
>  And if no piece of chronicle we prove,  
>  We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;  
>  As well a well-wrought urn becomes  
> The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,  
>  And by these hymns, all shall approve  
>  Us canonized for Love.
> 
> And thus invoke us: "You, whom reverend love  
>  Made one another's hermitage;  
> You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;  
>  Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove  
>  Into the glasses of your eyes  
>  (So made such mirrors, and such spies,  
> That they did all to you epitomize)  
>  Countries, towns, courts: beg from above  
>  A pattern of your love!"


	5. After -- Batter my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter returns to the future in which Sigyn has forgotten, well, lots of stuff, really. It is late afternoon, and Loki takes Sigyn to see the temple. Some of your questions are answered. New questions are raised. Much angst is generated.

After they had eaten, Sigyn bundled up and they walked over to the ruined temple. It was enormous, but nothing could have prepared her for the view inside. At the moment she crossed the threshold, her breath stopped as her other senses became overwhelmed by the space. A ghostly breeze traveled up her spine, and gooseflesh prickled her arms. When her breath finally began once more she inhaled as quietly as possible. Her eyes, wide open, travelled slowly around the space — drinking in every detail.

Loki remained behind her while she got her bearings, absorbed the smells, took in its vastness, acclimated to the sounds. After many heartbeats, he shifted to move close behind her, though he was still careful not to touch.

The scrape of his boots broke her reverie, and she turned slightly to catch his eye. “How long have you known about this place?”

“I have lost count,” his was voice tired, and low with melancholy, “many, many years.”

“And no one else comes here?”

“No one who comes back. I like my privacy.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, not sure how much of it was a joke and how much was serious. She reserved comment, however, turning back to face the long transept of the ruined cathedral. Slowly she took a deep breath before mumbling to herself, “I am sure I know this place, but I couldn’t say how.”

Snow drifted through what remained of the roof, 27 meters above them at least. Rows of half demolished stone columns grew like trees through what remained of the carpet of ferns that had covered the floor in summertime, marching some 160 meters toward a raised dais. Over everything loomed the empty spiderwork frame of an enormous window. She looked back at him once more, anxiety drifting into the edges of her gaze as she whispered, “You’re certain no one else is here?”

“As certain as I can be.” He tried as best he could to appear reassuring, though he wasn’t quite sure how well he managed.

She nodded tentatively, and stepped carefully into the room, emerging from under an intricate staircase overlooked by the empty latticework of a window to match that at the far end of the hall. She kept moving carefully out of the shadows, turning to see everything. “I can still feel it — the sacredness of the space. It makes one feel . . .” she struggled to find the right words. Her fists balled themselves up as she brought them to her chest.

“Small,” he whispered.

“Yes. I feel almost like a child set down in another world entirely, that if I make too much noise I will very much not like the consequences.”

Loki swallowed nervously as she moved quietly to the stairs. She glanced back at him briefly, pausing slightly to ask, “Will they hold?” He nodded, and she moved softly up the broad steps. As she reached a wide landing, she paused to gaze between the two ornate windows. He stopped beside her, his own gaze flickering between her face and the ruined architechture around them. 

“What sort of god demands a structure like this to be built? A space so calculated to make one feel helpless — unworthy?”

Loki practically choked trying to suppress a barking laugh. “I believe,” his tone dripping with sarcasm, “it was an angry god.”

She knit her brow together at his bitter reaction, waiting for an explanation. “I’ve found images,” he continued, trying to cover his tracks, “fragments of murals: a great tree destroyed by lightning and fire, a terrifying goddess towering over crowds of worshipers, her golden consort by her side.”

“I wonder what sort of sacrifices their worshippers made in trying to appease them. It’s no wonder people shun the old gods.”

“Oh, somehow I think these deities were something altogether different.” He turned away to hide the clenched jaw, the darkness in his eyes. Then he drew his hand across his face and turned back to face her once more. “I suspect that they appropriated the space from an older tennant. I found some hidden alcoves where smaller statues and pictures had been stashed. Images of a woman in blue — she often holds a child, and sometimes she weeps.” He gestured at the empty latticework behind the stairs, “these used to be filled with bright, colored glass. They must have been glorious with the sun streaming through them.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m sure of it. The floor beneath and ground outside was littered with the pieces when I first arrived. I started collecting the fragments together — fitting them into small frames. Some I’ve used to cover my own windows, and others I take into Wy to sell.”

“How is it that your house is so close by?”

“It seems to have originally been the residence for whatever priest or priestess presided over this place. It has a strong stone foundation, and I have worked to repair it. I come here only to explore, and to scavenge what useful bits and pieces I can without causing too much damage. I want to make sure the house is defensible.”

She found herself mezmerized by his face, by his lips as they moved, by the micro-expressions in his eyes, and the muscles of his brow as his emotions shifted. Something there felt increasingly familiar, yet just barely out of reach. As he paused, she forced herself to look away in order to continue the conversation. “You expect trouble, after so many years undisturbed?”

He shrugged with perhaps too much nonchalance and answered evasively, “I have simply learned the importance of careful preparation. This place serves as an apt reminder. Clearly something horrific occured here. It pays to be pragmatically cautious.” She waited for him to continue, but he declined to elaborate, and she thought it might be best to let it lie.

She returned her attention to the temple. A hollow feeling of deja vu began to open up in her chest as she stood there, and she moved away from him toward the front railing of the landing. His assessment was undeniable — something terrible must have happened here. Aside from the gaping holes in the roof and the ruined columns, ominous holes opened at several points in the floor.

“It seems as though there must have been an explosion, and probably a bombardment from above.” _Thor’s enthusiasm for leaving gaping holes in things certainly leaves its mark._ “The damage in the roof seems too precise to be from decay alone. But the most surprising damage is below. There is evidence that indicates tremendous fire in the basement beneath the altar. Even the stone floor is melted in places.”

She nodded absently, conceding that this must have been the case. 

Just as that thought drifted through her, the ache in her chest intensified. She freed one of her hands from its glove, and deliberately placed her palm on the railing before her. Suddenly the ache shifted into a bright pain and she fell to her knees.

*****

BAROOM! A bright flash blinded her temporarily before everything went dark once more. Panicked screams filled her ears as she was pressed close by a sea of bodies. She smelled sweat. Fear. Smoke. She clutched something small and warm close to her chest — a smooth wooden box.

BAROOM! Another flash before hot debris fell around her. Someone close shrieked and several of the shadows about her collapsed. Anger coursed through her like hot blood. _How dare she put all these helpless fools in such danger. How dare she steal their naive trust and then drink their fear?_ Smoke filled her lungs, and she turned to find an exit, but where? Prone bodies blocked a swift retreat on every side. What direction was wisest? She wrapped her fists more tightly about the warm treasure she held, desperately trying to keep it close, keep it hidden, before she lost all control to the beserker rage that filled her pores.

“SIGYN! Give back what you have stolen!”

“Stolen!” She turned to face her opponent, saw her once golden hair singed short, her once flawless face wracked with pain and smudged with black ash. “You cannot steal from a thief! What price have these people paid for your ego? What price did Balder pay before your arrow finally pierced his heart? What price did you attempt to exact from Loki, and now from me?” Sigyn drew herself up to her full height, eyes wild, sight tinged with red. “The difference now is that I am ready for you.”

She clutched her prize tightly with one hand and raised the other above her head, as she did so, she sang a great keening song deep in her throat, a diamond bright light shining from her hand. Her opponent’s eyes widened in desperation as she, too, raised her hands, attempting to raise a shield between them.

BAROOM!!!!

*****

“Stella!” Hands held her shoulders tight. “Stella!”

Her eyes flew open and she gulped in the clean air. Frantically she looked about, trying to get her bearings. Light. It was still daylight. The crisp air of the early winter breeze brushed her cheek. She was still in the temple, but somehow on her knees, one hand gripping the cold stone of the railing, the other gripped tight around Loki’s forearm, his face inches from hers, wretched with concern.

She released both the rail and his arm, taking deep, slow breaths. He loosened his own grip, sliding his hands slowly from her shoulders down her arms until he reluctantly let go. 

She found she could not hold his gaze, and looked down, then up at the clouds visible through a gaping hole in the roof.

Finally, as she turned her gaze to the vast hall, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. 

“I saw it.” 

Another breath. A tensed face as she tried to suppress the tears of rage that still threatened to overwhelm her. 

“Then. As if I had been one of them — hiding in the basement when the bombardment came. Crushed together.” She looked up to his eyes once again, her voice tight. “They were slaughtered. They came here for sanctuary only to be trapped. Burned to death. Choked by smoke.” Her voice became hard with outrage and she spit out her bitter revelations, “Their deaths did not come from above. The real danger was down there with them. Their ‘god’!” She scrubbed her face hard with her hands.

“We should go,” came his reply, quiet, apologetic. _It was too much. I shouldn’t have brought her here so soon._ “We can come again some other time if you want.”

She nodded, dazed, still taut with rage, as he helped her stand, and she absently pulled her glove back on. She took a deep breath before she began walking. Then another. She accepted his help as they made their careful way back down the stairs and outside once more.

“She was indeed an angry god,” and she looked up at her companion as she said it. “You are right to still be cautious.”

She did not know why she knew this, but she felt it with absolute certainty. Her hazel eyes looked deep into his green ones as she tried to capture some glimpse of a thought, some memory that seemed just out of reach. Finally she glanced nervously back up at the temple. “We should get indoors.”

“Yes.”

But then she stopped, and turned to face him. Her eyes darted over his features as though she were suddenly confused. She reached over to touch his cheek, ran a thumb across his lips and traced the scars that marred them above and below. 

Her face washed over suddenly with pain, her voice barely audible, tears streaming down her face, “Loki. Oh my dearest, what did they do to you?”

He barely had time to catch her as she fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a quote from the first line of John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV
> 
> Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you  
> As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;  
> That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend  
> Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.  
> I, like an usurp'd town to another due,  
> Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;  
> Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,  
> But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.  
> Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,  
> But am betroth'd unto your enemy;  
> Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,  
> Take me to you, imprison me, for I,  
> Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,  
> Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.


	6. After -- Lost hours recall'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows just a few hours after the previous one. Loki has carried Sigyn into the house and waits for her to awake.

Loki’s eyes slowly blinked open, and he straightened his stiff back. He had crick in his neck, a little damp spot of drool on his sleeve, and a creased, worried brow. He had spent an agonizingly long evening, perched on a chair next to the bed, watching Sigyn’s breath rise and fall. When he first laid her in bed, her breath occasionally stuttered with a repressed sob and tears tracked down her nose to drip onto the pillow. Eventually she lapsed into a deeper sleep; the tears stopped while he watched and waited. She had remained unconscious for several hours, and he drifted to sleep, bent over on the side of the bed, head resting on his arms.

Now that he was awake, he once again mapped her face before—tentatively—reaching out to take her hand and bring it close. He cradled it between his own, caressing her skin, running his fingers over hers, between her knuckles, down to her wrist. He lifted it to his face, pressing it to his cheek, moving his head just slightly to feel the softness on the back of her hand. Shifting once more, he pressed a light kiss to each knuckle, then moved her hand to rest again on his cheek.

_Come back to me, Dearheart. You have to come back._

The world outside the house had long since gone dark. As he watched, her eyes began darting about beneath her closed lids. Her jaw clenched. Her brow hardened. She sneered. An arm twitched.

Instinctively, he reached out and caressed her forehead, then ran his thumb over her temple, massaging lightly, moving his touch across her cheekbones, tracing under her eyes to smooth away what tension he could.

Suddenly she threw her hands out to brace herself, flung her torso upright, and opened her eyes wide. “Loki!”

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“You’re not? . . . You’re not in prison?”

His face practically split in two with his smile. “Not for many, many years, thanks to you.”

Her brow scrunched in confusion. “To me?” She looked around the room as she tried to reconstruct where she was and how she’d gotten there.

His face mirrored her own confusion for a bit, then cleared suddenly. “Oh! Of course you don’t know.” He rubbed his face to clear his thoughts. “I’m an idiot. How would you?” He laughed at the realization. “By everything that’s sacred in all the realms — you don’t know! Of course you wouldn’t.” He crawled up to sit next to her in the bed, leaned against the headboard so he could draw her close in his arms, breath her in, and feel every muscle and soft curve of her press up against him, still chuckling to himself.

She melted into him for a moment before she pushed back to see his face. “What don’t I know? What happened?”

At her question, Loki’s laughter nearly teetered on the edge of hysterical. “You happened. You changed everything. You did all of it. All of this is your fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Warning fires started burning in the back of her eyes as she got more annoyed, and Loki decided he had better explain before she started breaking things.

He took a deep breath. “You brought Amora here to the temple, yes? Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“You found the time stone. You remember that?”

“Yes.”

“You fought with her.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! . . . I remember all of that, idiot! What else?”

“Your fight — your magic clashing with her shield — by all that’s sacred, such power! — You caused The Event. Your magnificent, tectonic magic . . . most of it reflected off Amora’s shield and . . . did all of that,” he waved vaguely toward the windows, “in addition to an awful lot of damage to your intended target, as well, might I add,” and now his smile was both proud _and_ smug, if that’s possible.

She sat silent for a bit — unable, or unwilling, to comprehend what he had just said. “I caused The Event?” She was most decidedly not smiling. “Me?”

Loki finally read her mood and sobered himself, regaining some measure of control. He cleared his throat to tamp down his euphoria, and his reply came very, very quietly. “Yes.”

Her voice got louder in direct proportion to his getting quieter. “Are you saying that I brought about the apocalypse? That I destroyed the electrical and the satellite grids on Midgard? That I wiped out all communication systems on an entire planet? How could that be even possible? Loki — I’m me. Just me. There’s no way I could possibly have let loose that much magic.”

Loki took another very deep breath. “You were very, very angry.”

“No amount of anger in the nine realms could do that.”

Loki worked deliberately to control his face — _do not smile!_ It wasn’t easy. “Apparently, there is. Was. You must have felt that you were protecting them — all of those helpless little mortals — from her. And, um, getting a bit of revenge in the process. Well, a lot of revenge, actually.” Loki couldn’t quite keep a smidgeon of a smirk off his face as he added that.

“I was protecting them! How could ‘protecting them’ turn into destroying them?”

Now he huffed in annoyance. “You didn’t destroy them. You destroyed their infrastructure. They were all fine, except for the ones who had already died during Amora’s rampage. _You_ didn’t kill anyone.”

“Not directly, but how many died in the aftermath? They had no heat but what they could produce locally with tiny generators, then the fuel ran out and they had to convert to wood. It was terrible. Elsbeth told me stories. It took decades for things to sort themselves out. It’s been over a hundred years.”

She stopped suddenly, and turned to face him directly. Her eyes opened wide once again with this realization.

“Over. A hundred. Years.”

He nodded, holding one of her hands in each of his own, gaze moving over her face with a wrecked intensity as he watched the devastating epiphany creep over her.

“Where have I been?” She caught her breath. She searched his face. “Where have _you_ been?”

His brow scrunched up, and his voice broke as he explained, “I have been right here, since the day Thor lead me out of prison so I wouldn’t have to face that devil who called himself my father. I have been right here, waiting for you.”

Sigyn’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Where was I?”

“As best as I can tell, you were . . . in between. When you released your final blow, it must have interacted with the stone you held, and — we guessed — it threw you forward in time. I hoped that it would set you down in the same place. I was almost right. I missed by just a few miles.”

“Oh my dearest. You have been waiting all this time, and I didn’t even know — I knew nothing. I didn’t even know that I was missing you.”

She brought her hand to his face, tracing its outlines carefully, softly, as if she thought he might break, or dissipate the way his illusions so often did, bursting forth in green light to disappear entirely. Then her fingers moved to trace the rough scars on his lips, and she was struck by a second realization. “They didn’t want you to talk, did they? Odin. Amora. He always hated listening to you. She always feared your voice. They stopped it. Didn’t they?”

He nodded slowly, letting her mourn. For him, the wounds were old; the scars were just part of him now. For her, it felt like weeks, a few days. She hadn’t even seen the wounds when they were still fresh. She hadn’t watched them heal.

Suddenly she screamed, pounded on the bed, clenched her hand in a tight fist and the vase across the room imploded. “I’ll kill him for this!”

“Stop!” He grabbed her hands and moved his face close to hers. “Stop. Sigyn, it was over 100 years ago. It’s too late for that sort of vengeance. He and I have come to terms. I wouldn’t precisely call it peace, but one might label it a cease fire, anyway. He knows the truth — in large part because of what you did here. He has published that truth. And one might say that he is justly punished by his own willful ignorance, since his prejudice ultimately lead to the deaths of the two things he treasured more than life itself. At least I have you once again. Odin will never see Frigga or Balder until he takes the final road to Valhalla. He is a shell of his former self. Thor sits on the throne, and he is a much better ruler than his father could ever have hoped to be.”

“100 years ago.” She shook her head. “I cannot process that. I have lost 100 years.”

“But you are here now.” He kissed her knuckles, closed his eyes as he slowly moved his lips back and forth across the backs of her hands. _So soft._ He sensed her relax. The bed shifted as she moved closer and she retrieved one of her hands from his to brush his hair back from his face, then comb through it with her fingers, eyes darting across each feature of his face.

“It has been so long,” she breathed.

He barked out a laugh at that, “You have no idea!”

She smacked him hard on the shoulder. “I am not going to compete over who suffered more — neither one of us would win that game, you rodent! Even without counting those years I spent in between times, I endured those awful nights when you tracked Balder to that temple, agonizing days afterward when I knew they were hunting for you. And once you were found — so many weeks they kept you from me — I knew only that you were in pain, that they tortured you and refused to let me heal you, that they planned a sham of a trial to publicly shame you before they locked you away forever.” Her gaze had lost all its anger and fixed itself intently on his. “I thought they had taken you from me forever.”

He turned her hand over to kiss the palm, then slowly moved his lips down to her wrist, breathed deeply while he dragged his nose lightly up from the crook of her forearm back to the palm of her hand. He heard her breathing become shallower, and he turned to look at her face, pushing her stubborn curls away from her face, pulling a stray strand that had gotten stuck in her mouth, and another that was caught in her tears. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, Loki pulled himself close to her, buried his face in her neck and breathed in as if she were oxygen.

Sigyn’s fingers began working at the buttons on his waistcoat, just as his opened the ties of her tunic. His mouth followed his fingers as they worked open the collar, warm on the crook of her neck, dipping to the hollow of her clavicle, tracing beneath the edge of the fabric with his tongue, tasting the salt of her skin, surrounding himself with the familiar healing lavender and sage that even now clung to her skin.

He felt her fingers curl into his hair, felt them tighten until it hurt. A humming started deep in the back of her throat, and he echoed it with his own, licking, kissing, nibbling, until –

“Arrgh! Bridget’s cunt, Loki! Do you think I’m going to break?”

He looked up, startled at first then he smirked, eyes full of mischief. “Oooh! ‘Bridget’s cunt,’ that’s a new one.”

She smacked him on the side of his head, breath still shallow with need. “Elsbeth’s Irish, you shithead.”

“You picked up that nasty language from that sweet old woman? No wonder you get along so well.”

“Shut up!” And she smashed her mouth into his, bowling him over onto his back — the accumulation of their shared suffering channeling itself into a desperate need to reconnect. Buttons flew as she pulled open his shirt, seams popped in her rush to pull her tunic over her head, and she growled at him, “just love me . . . fill me . . . make me come apart . . . make me remember . . . make me remember everything.”

Sigyn moved her fists back into his hair dragging him to her breasts. His mouth found one and then the other licking, then sucking hard, and biting down until she cried out. Somehow she slithered out of her breeches, and his dexterous fingers slid into her as she practically levitated in her urgency.

“No,” she demanded. “All of you, I need all of you, now,” and she untangled her hands from his hair to work him out of his trousers, to wrap her fingers around his hard cock and guide him precisely where she needed him most. “Oh yes, fill me, be with me entirely.”

“Mmmmmm . . . Sigyn. How I have missed you.” And as Loki thrust himself inside, he gasped out, “No one,” another hard thrust to punctuate, “could ever,” another piston of his hips, “replace you.”

He ground into her as she dug her nails into his shoulder blades, both of them gasping for breath in between incoherent noises, every fiber working to get as physically close as possible. Her thighs wrapped tight around his hips. Both of them strained with their arms to pull the other closer, as if they could defy the laws of physics and occupy the same space, taking each other inside themselves.

Sigyn fell over the precipice first with a great scream. Loki dove in right after, rigid with ecstasy, and then collapsed.

Moments after he rolled off her, an enormous smile broke over his face.

Then he laughed.

He kept on laughing as she joined him in uncontrollable fits of giggles.

They laughed until their cheeks ached and their sides were sore, until tears rolled down their faces, and when they couldn’t laugh any longer, the tears turned to sobs, and they held one another close until exhaustion overtook them, and they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a quote from this John Donne poem:  
> Song
> 
> Sweetest love, I do not go,  
>  For weariness of thee,  
> Nor in hope the world can show  
>  A fitter love for me;  
>  But since that I  
> Must die at last, ‘tis best  
> To use myself in jest  
>  Thus by feign’d deaths to die.
> 
> Yesternight the sun went hence,  
>  And yet is here today;  
> He hath no desire nor sense,  
>  Nor half so short a way:  
>  Then fear not me,  
> But believe that I shall make  
> Speedier journeys, since I take  
>  More wings and spurs than he.
> 
> O how feeble is man’s power,  
>  That if good fortune fall,  
> Cannot add another hour,  
>  Nor a lost hour recall!  
>  But come bad chance,  
> And we join to’it our strength,  
> And we teach it art and length,  
>  Itself o’er us to’advance.
> 
> When thou sigh’st, thou sigh’st not wind,  
>  But sigh’st my soul away;  
> When thou weep’st, unkindly kind,  
>  My life’s blood doth decay.  
>  It cannot be  
> That thou lov’st me, as thou say’st,  
> If in thine my life thou waste,  
>  That art the best of me.
> 
> Let not thy divining heart  
>  Forethink me any ill;  
> Destiny may take thy part,  
>  And may thy fears fulfil;  
>  But think that we  
> Are but turn’d aside to sleep;  
> They who one another keep  
>  Alive, ne’er parted be.


	7. Way Back: "Something wicked this way comes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Frigga hears that Amora's father has passed away, she writes to the young woman to invite her to court. It seems as though Amora could certainly use a bit of guidance -- it remains to be seen whether it will do any good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces the principle antagonist, Amora, at her home estate and takes place long before any of the events described in the previous chapters – before Loki and Sigyn have even met, in fact. Any resemblance to the Amora from the Marvel comics will be purely coincidental, since I do not have the time or money to invest in 30 years of back catalog (alas).  
> This chapter is slightly Domme-ish, and dances on the edge of non-consent.

_Frigga, Allmother, with sincerest condolences and in deepest sympathy, sends greetings to the Lady Amora, daughter of our valued and dearly lost subject, Asher, Lord of the North Country._

_Having heard praises of both your personal graces and intellectual skills, we have for many years hoped to see your formal presentation at court. To our loss, this was delayed by your education and your father’s dear attachment that kept you long at home._

_The Lord Ascher’s recent departure to Valhalla has been mourned by all at the great court of Asgard. Yet it has also raised in us the hope that this sad occasion might offer a mutual opportunity — for us, the opportunity to at last be graced with your presence, and for you, a diversion from your sad time of mourning._

_To that end, I, in consultation with the Allfather, would like to invite you, Lady Amora, to sojourn with us at court for as long as you please to stay with us. The Royal Guard by whom this message has been sent has been instructed to await your answer, and — should it be positive — to accompany you and some select few of your servants back to court._

_I will await your answer in the hope your response will fulfill all our fondest desires._

_With anticipation of soon receiving your loving reply,_

_Frigga, Allmother,_

_Queen of Asgard_

*****

The guardsman reading the letter faltered a bit as he ended, hand trembling just slightly as he endured Amora’s cold stare. 

She was striking, unquestionably. Golden hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her complexion was flawless, her profile finer than any he had seen grace the palace or the walls of its gallery. Nor had he seen any woman more intimidating — the Allmother excepted, of course. Tyge Tygesson had never been quite so unsettled by any of his superiors, though he had stood firm against the icy blasts of frost giants, hunted and skinned fierce predators, even braved a bilgesnipe protecting its young. He still somehow sensed his heart pound louder in his chest as the silence lengthened, and the lady’s eyes dissected every detail of his appearance. When her gaze finally slid away, he felt as though a blade had been withdrawn from his neck, and he couldn’t help but shift his weight slightly to ease his tension.

Then she smiled. 

A slow twitch at the side of her perfect mouth bloomed until it suffused her face, as though the clouds had suddenly parted after a gloomy storm. When she returned her eyes to his, it seemed the drapes had suddenly been thrown open in a dark room. All he could see was the bright glacier blue of her eyes as if they were the sun itself.

Fluidly, Amora unfolded herself from the velvet chair, and stepped toward the soldier. When she spoke in a low contralto, he felt a fire deep in his gut that halted all rational thought.

“How very kind of you to travel so far to deliver her royal highness’s message to such an uncultured backwater as this, and to a subject like myself — unimportant, and isolated from state affairs as I am. I am infinitely grateful both for the queen’s generous offer and for the gracious courtesy of its messenger.” 

She stood within a few feet of him now, statuesque and unbearably beautiful. She again ran her eyes over his form, though now with a warmer intent. He was, after all, in his prime; ladies at court had often complimented him on his resemblance to his battlefield commander, Thor. Tyge straightened himself under her scrutiny. 

When her gaze returned to his face, she addressed him once more with a silken tone, “Do you serve the queen herself?”

He coughed before he spoke, staving off a squeak that threatened to break out of his mouth, eyes flickering to her face, then darting away to the space beside her. “I am a member of her household, my lady.”

“Ah.” Her perfect coral lips parted slightly with the tiny affirmation, feeding the growing warmth in his chest. “What can you tell me of her majesty’s household? Who are its principle occupants? What family are currently at court?”

The guardsman cleared his throat, and worked hard to maintain the proper decorum in the face of his audience’s considerable charms. “All three of the royal sons are currently in residence, my lady — the eldest, Thor; Loki; and the youngest son, Balder.”

“And what can you tell me about them?”

Tyge straightened with pride at the question. Here, at least he was on familiar territory, ready, as always, to praise Odin’s golden sons. “Thor and Balder are admired of all, heroes proven in battle — courageous fighters and leaders of men. None can best them in tourney or battlefield. Thor will be a great king one day, and Balder his brightest asset and constant support.”

Amora nodded. “And the middle son, Loki?”

Here his smile faltered just a tiny bit. “Loki is a great scholar, but has also triumphed in both tourneys and battles.” 

She noted his slight hesitance to continue here, and so shifted his attention slightly. “And who are their companions?”

He brightened at the question, and answered enthusiastically, “The Warriors Three, my Lady, as well as the Lady Sif. They are practically inseparable in all things — sparring, hunting,” and here he stopped before he said anything that might be considered indiscreet. Instead, he ended simply by saying, “Together they follow all pursuits that young, virtuous nobles should do.”

Amora smiled indulgently at his correction, before her brow wrinkled ever so slightly. “A lady? The Lady Sif spars with warriors, and hunts? Is that not seen as . . . indecorous? Is it not seen as improper for a woman to place her virtue and reputation at risk by associating herself so closely with fighters?”

“No madam,” Tyge rushed to defend his heroes. “She is admired by all for her prowess in battle. None would dare question her motives, just as no soldier would presume to approach her in an unseemly fashion.”

“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully as she casually circled around her guest, paused briefly behind him, then continued once again to where he could see her. “You said that Loki is a scholar. What, pray tell, does he study?”

Tyge cleared his throat once more, reluctant to discuss a subject he felt might bring shame to his household. “He is a wielder of seider, my lady, and known for his skill in the magical arts, but he is no less a skilled warrior for that. He has never neglected his duty to his father nor the realm.”

“However, soldiers such as yourself see his studies as less than honorable?”

“It is not my place, madam, to pass judgment on my betters. He is a prince of Asgard, and a cunning fighter. If he chooses to honor his mother the queen by studying her arts, it is no doubt to his credit.”

Something unreadable passed over her features to be replaced once more with an inviting look. She stepped closer to him. “You are very diplomatic. Are all her majesty’s servants so gracious as yourself?”

He blushed before mumbling, “I merely seek to do my duty, madam.”

Amora moved closer yet, to where he could smell the perfume of her hair. “And do you enjoy your . . . service?” 

His jaw worked as he tried to maintain his composure. His cheeks flushed, and he stood stiffly under the weight of her presence.

“I have all my life wanted nothing else,” he replied, trying valiantly to ignore the sub-text in her questions.

Amora rested a warm hand on his arm and leaned close, her voice low, thrumming with both promise and authority. “You live to serve, then?”

He fixed his eyes resolutely on the chair she had vacated rather than the ivory column of her throat or the soft curve of her breast that now brushed against his arm — the arm that still held the queen’s letter, though now he wished it to serve as another layer of armor, rather than an invitation. His voice waivered ever so slightly as he answered, “I do, my lady.”

“Ah,” came another low sigh of affirmation, and she ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip. He swallowed hard, and the flush at his neck deepened.

Without moving her eyes from his face, a gesture of her delicate hand opened the door across the room, and Amora called out, “Maida?”

“Yes, madam?” came the near instant response from a girl hovering in the doorway. 

“Our guest appears to be utterly worn out from his travels. Tell Herr Leifson that I will take supper here, and entertain the queen’s messenger until he eats and has rested enough to return to Asgard. When you return, bring some wine to ease the time while we wait for the food to be brought.”

“Right away, madam,” came the girl’s quiet reply, her eyes never leaving the floor as she silently closed the door.

Amora turned back to the young soldier, sweeping her eyes over his face and neck once again, before gifting him with the light of her smile. “You seem warm, dear . . . what did you say your name was . . .?”

“Tygesson, my lady, Tyge Tygesson.”

“Tyge,” she purred his name, and the flush on his neck deepened once more. “Dear Tyge, you seem warm.” Amora called out toward the door once again, “Maida!”

The girl opened the door immediately with a quick curtsey, “yes mistress?”

“Come take Tyge’s cloak from him. Make him feel welcome.”

“Yes madam.” The demure young woman glided into the room on soft slippers, and helped the now thoroughly discomposed messenger remove his cloak, and then just as silently relieved him of his weapons belt, carefully setting his things aside before gliding back out of the room to return immediately with a small cart which held an elegant presentation of fruit, cheeses, a pair of glasses, and a carafe of wine. The girl then exited once more in silence.

Tyge gaped at the closed door, struggling to maintain the diplomatic composure he had spent so many years practicing. “Your staff are most efficient, my lady,” he finally managed to say. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a girl finish an errand and return so quickly.”

Amora smiled again, eyes glittering as she responded, “The staff learned quickly how much my father valued _immediate_ obedience. I like to maintain that. And Maida, she is . . . special.”

He nodded, as an edge of anxiety now added itself to the uncomfortable heat in his belly.

Amora led him over to a couch near the windows, and draped herself over the cushions. “Won’t you serve us, Tyge, since you value service so highly?”

He nodded as if in a spell, turning to fill a pair of glasses with the garnet liquid, and load a dainty plate with delicacies, which he presented to her with a bow.

“Perfect.” She smiled again, setting her glass on the table next to her, before turning to accept the plate. She pinned him with a silent look for half a minute before whispering, “Feed me.”

The flustered knight reached for a slice of nectarine, but she drew back the plate. “No. Come closer.” He complied and then she added, “Kneel.”

His breath caught in his throat and he hesitated.

“Ohhhh, that was the wrong answer,” her voice suddenly icy. A flick of her wrist, and his breath stopped altogether, his eyes bugged with fear. “Kneel!”

His knees connected with the floor. 

“Much better.” And with another flick of her hand his throat opened up for him to gulp a cavernous breath, his face confused with fear and desire. Amora leaned forward, offering him a full view of the ample cleavage spilling out of her dress, her lips close enough to his ear for him to feel the caress of her breath. 

“Now,” she commanded quietly, “. . . feed me.”

Tyge tentatively reached out once more for the fruit, dripping with juices, and brought it to her lips.

Amora opened her mouth and reached out with her tongue, first licking, then wrapping her lips about the yellow flesh of the nectarine and sucking it slowly into her mouth while she closed her eyes and moaned slightly. She slowly licked the remaining nectar from her lips. Tyge’s eyes glued themselves there, his own mouth slack and his breathing ragged.

She reached out a hand to run the tip of a finger along his angular jawline. “Mmmm . . . you do live for service, do you not? I can reward obedience. I wouldn’t want you to return to our queen believing I was ungrateful for all that she sent to me.” 

Amora poured some of her own wine into his mouth. “Isn’t it good?” He nodded mutely, and she flashed a beneficent smile. “My father bought this vintage himself — imported it from Aelfheim for me. It was a special father-daughter treat. You are very lucky to taste it.”

Tyge felt it burn in his innards, as the drink further inflamed his desire and heightened his sense of smell so that he couldn’t help but close his eyes as he breathed in her scent and shuddered with need. He shifted as his aching cock strained in his breeches, and he whimpered as he fought for control.

“It is good, isn’t it? And so are you — so very good at taking orders. You are going to touch me now, — ah ah!” She put up a commanding finger before his face as he stated to move forward, “Not with your hands.” 

She pulled up her skirts and spread her legs wide. “No. Put your hands behind you so you aren’t tempted to defile me with them. You are going to worship me. You like that idea, don’t you?” She smiled at his consternation, the blush on his face that betrayed the war between his need and his humiliation. “You can’t turn away, can you? Come here, then. Lick.”

He shuffled between her thighs and leaned in to her wetness, licking, sucking gently, making needy mewling noises as he did her bidding.

“Yes. This is what you were made for, wasn’t it? On your knees, taking orders.” Her hands curled into his hair, forcing him to move just where she wanted, with precisely the right pressure until she silently shuddered her release, and she held his face at her core until his vision began to blur at the edges from lack of oxygen.

When she permitted him to pull back her words were full of praise. “So good. Such an obedient soldier. I think you deserve another reward,” and she fed the dazed messenger a piece of fruit that dripped with juice, even as his brain remained foggy with lust sharpened with shame.

“Do you want a reward?” she cooed in her dark voice.

Tyge nodded once more, too lost in his conflicted emotions to summon up words.

“Take off your shirt,” she demanded, and watched greedily as he complied. “Good. Lie down, now, there on the floor, and show me your cock. Yes, pull it out. Stroke it for me.” She watched him unlace his breeches, and fist his own length. She watched his face contort with pleasure, watched the washboard muscles of his abdomen clench with effort right up until he came to the edge of fulfillment: “Stop!”

He froze, eyes wide.

“Oh such a good boy for me,” she cooed, and then added coldly, “Now put your hands on the floor, and make sure they stay there. Don’t. Touch. Me. Do you understand?” 

He nodded once again, eyes hazey with lust, and she climbed on top of him, raising her skirts and sinking down onto his hardness, her knees on his wrists to keep them still as she began snaking her hips, moaning softly, pulling her breasts out over the top of her bodice, pinching her nipples, kneading the soft flesh as he now watched her. Her lip curled upward with a sneer, as she growled sarcastically, “A man of action — I imagine your hero Thor is much like you. You think seider is a woman’s art, but see how it bests a dullard such as yourself.”

Tyge groaned out loud both from the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him and the pain of her knees grinding his wristbones into the carpet beneath him. As Amora’s movements became faster and more desperate, he bucked his hips up to meet hers, chasing his pleasure. His breath came in desperate gasps, until her orgasm crashed over her. She bore down on his cock, face twisted and jaw clenched tight. 

He screamed as his own climax overwhelmed his senses, lights dancing in front of his vision, sweat pouring off his brow.

Then all went black.

*****

When Tyge once more became aware of his surroundings, he was laid out on the couch, fully dressed, apparently bathed. Maida stood by the door waiting silently, but no longer demure, her almost inhuman gaze marked his every move. 

She held a letter — an apparent response to the Allmother’s request. Once he had stowed the missive in his bag, Maida ushered him out of the great house to his waiting horse, already saddled and ready to go. He couldn’t seem to remember much of his conversation with the lady of the house, only that she had been dazzlingly beautiful, courteous, and grateful for the queen’s attention.

The lady herself was nowhere to be seen.

*****

_To her most beloved queen and sovereign Frigga, Allmother,_

_the Lady Amora — most unworthy recipient of your kind grace — desires to humbly accept the profferred invitation to attend on her majesty at court. I find that your generous offer reaches me at a time when I am most in need of an anchor, as the untimely loss of my father has left me wholly adrift in seemingly lonely world, while my recent departure from school has bereft me of purpose and occupation. The opportunity to — as you say — divert myself from my sad losses leaves me unable to express the depths of my gratitude._

_To that end, I send this reply to you via your own kind messenger, and hope to arrange my affairs as to express my gratitude in person within a few weeks of your receiving this epistle._

_Until I am gifted with the sight of your gracious self, I wish all best blessings to fall upon yourself, on Odin Allfather, and on your three valiant sons._

_I will always remain your most humble subject,_

_Amora,_

_Lady of the North Country_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a totally nerdy side note, the letters at the beginning and the end of this chapter follow the rules for medieval correspondence, or ars dictaminis. I followed an advice book written by an anonymous monk in the 11th century titled Principles of Letter Writing.


	8. Before: Let fair acceptance take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh so much snark. This chapter takes place just two days after The First Kiss that happened in chapter 4 (holy crap, that was a long time ago – sorry). So here’s a lovely, fluffy (slightly salacious) chapter of new love in the library, but it’s Loki and Sigyn, so yeah, snark.
> 
> Please tell me what you think -- I would dearly love to hear from you.

Sigyn squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead, looking for the pressure point that would relieve the pain behind her eyes. She held her thumbs there, while she counted under her breath and sighed as she released the pressure and felt the dull ache ease. She stared out the library window for a few minutes at the sun sitting low on the horizon. She would have to go back home soon to start supper for herself and her guardian Eir. Her little side project would have to go back on the shelf again until tomorrow afternoon, after she had done her time at the practice field. Training had started for a new group of recruits, and she would be needed down at the field to dress the inevitable results of careless bravado — broken bones, dehydration, accidental knife slips.

Tomorrow, though, she would also see Loki. Two days had gone by since he had last been in to be treated for his shoulder wound. Two days since that kiss. 

She smiled — it’s a good thing Eir had been so distracted when she came back from the herb woman’s shop. Sigyn couldn’t remember ever being quite so clumsy as she had cleaned up the office. It was a miracle Eir hadn’t noticed.

She rubbed her forehead again to re-focus, and then pulled her notebook close to jot a few things down before she bent once more over the book to puzzle out what she could, cradling her head in one hand as she leaned in close, occasionally making more notes as she figured out some cryptic bit of theory.

She brushed her neck as a stray piece of hair tickled her nape.

She re-did the pins in her hair to pull back some curls that worked their way loose.

She opened the window a bit when the room began to feel warm.

She ran her fingers around her collar when the fabric irritated her skin.

She closed the window again when a breeze raised goosebumps across the light perspiration on her skin.

She fumbled as she went to write something and her notebook was 6 inches further away than she had expected it to be.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she looked carefully about the room before she went back to work.

She held her breath as a puff of air ghosted across her neck.

She closed her eyes as an invisible finger traced the edge of her ear, and slid downward.

She tightened her hands into fists as that touch traced the edge of her collar and proceeded feather light over the curves below.

She finally gave in. “Where are you hiding, you wretch?”

Loki’s gleeful answer came from behind a set of shelves, “I really don’t have to hide at all when you’re buried in that book.” He sniggered at his success and came up behind her from around a corner.

Sigyn twisted in her seat and couldn’t help the transformation that washed over her face, just as Loki couldn’t help grinning like a five year old who had just gotten the girl next door to squeal when he’s jumped out of a closet.

And when he caught her smile? Had someone just opened the window? Because he could swear he heard birds singing.

She hummed contentedly when he bent over for a lingering kiss, biting down softly on his lip when his hand roamed from her neck down to caress her breast.

He pulled back from her mouth just enough for a whispered question, “What have you been working at so studiously that it took me so long to track you down?” His thumb moved teasingly back and forth over her breast briefly before she caught at his wrist and shifted his hand to the table.

“It’s only been two days since your last visit to Eir’s. I didn’t think you would need to ‘track me down,’ haven’t you got enough prince things to keep you busy?” 

He scoffed. “Odin has ordered that I stay off the training field while I ‘recover’ from my injury. I’ve got precious little to do but read up on political theory and think about that distracting healer who appears to have anger issues.”

“Smartass!” Sigyn whacked him hard on his shoulder.

“Ow! That’s the injured one, you know.”

“I know,” she smirked and then pulled his face in with both hands for another quick kiss. When she backed away slightly she nodded at the enormous book on the table, “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

Loki reluctantly shifted his eyes from hers over to the book. Unfortunately, since Sigyn turned to face the table, Loki sighed and dragged a chair as close as possible to sit next to her. 

He scrunched his brow, then became intensely interested. “What is this?”

“It’s a history of the Norns.”

“No wonder it’s so enormous.” He started to turn the page.

“No! Don’t — no, no, no! Oh you pile of goat shit! I’m going to slip a purging herb into your dose next time! Piss!”

“What?! What did I do?”

She crossed her arms on the table and put her head down, moaning. “I had almost gotten that page worked out — now it’ll take me at least a half hour to find it again.”

“What are you talking about?”

She put her head up again, resting her cheek on a palm. “It’s a non-linear text — the bibliotech is really bizarre. It took me a month at least to work out how to read it coherently, and the pages shift — so when you turn the page, you can’t just go back to where you were. See?” She flipped the page back to demonstrate. The text and images were entirely different. “I’ll have to work out where the information moved to before I can start reading again.”

“That’s fascinating.” Loki immediately started turning pages and then turning them back before he began searching for a cypher or an index.

“A month, though?” His voice was incredulous. “I can’t believe it took _you_ an entire month to figure it out. What was the problem?”

“Time,” she said snidely.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I can only come to the library in the late afternoon after the commanders let the soldiers go in for their meal.”

His face remained blank.

She pointed at herself. “Healer? Takes care of injuries? Has to work? I have a job, remember?”

Comprehension dawned. “Oh right.”

She frowned at him. “You can be pretty daft for someone so smart.”

He sat up straight. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” She turned back to the text. “Anyway, I only have a couple of hours a day to work over here, and as you can imagine, every time I pull the text back out it’s like opening a brand new book; everything’s re-arranged itself, so I’ve had to work out the logic, and, as you would expect with the subject matter, it’s all got to do with timelines, and intersecting dimensions, and parallel histories, so it’s been very slow going. And _now_ , thanks to some clueless troublemaker with nothing better to do with his time, I might as well give up for the day, because by the time I find those particular riddles again, I’ll have to go home.”

She waited for an apology. Loki, however, continued to look through the book, lingering whenever he came across a particularly striking image. Just as Sigyn was about to open her mouth, Loki turned back to face her.

“So,” he said with a slight curl at the edge of his mouth, “does that mean you won’t be doing any more work this afternoon?” He leaned a little closer to her.

“No.” She stopped breathing for a moment. “I mean, no I won’t be doing any more work this afternoon. It would be pointless.” Her words got more and breathy, as Loki inched closer.

His gaze moved from hers to her lips down her neck and up once more to her eyes. “Do you have any other plans, then, before you go back to Eir’s?”

“No.” Her lips moved but she couldn’t really tell whether any sound came out.

“Because I have some ideas.” He brushed his lips over hers as he said it, and her eyes drifted shut.

She took a deep breath, and tried to push him back, though, admittedly, with very little force. “Loki, we’re in the library.”

He kept his face close to hers and rubbed the side of his nose against hers. “Oh yes, and it’s sooooo crowded, I can see where you would be concerned.”

“The Archivist —“

“Is down in the deep stacks for at least another hour.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I sent him looking for a half dozen obscure potions books that I very carefully mis-shelved about 45 minutes ago.” He moved in to capture her lips.

She moved back. “What if someone else comes?”

A shimmering green rained down over them briefly and the world became silent. “All they will see is an empty table, and a blank wall of shelves.”

“Some day I’ll have to learn how to do that,” she said in a breathy whisper. She paused then, looking quizzically into his eyes and mapping out his face, trying to read something that she couldn’t quite figure out.

He smiled while she puzzled at him. “I will be more than happy to teach you, or are there other things you would rather figure out first?” and he nudged the side of her nose once more before brushing his lips over hers. He felt their warmth, their softness, breathed in the ever-present lavendar essense that surrounded her. He stood and urged her around, pushed the book back out of the way and lifted her until she sat on the table, nudging his thigh between her knees. His lips never lost contact as his hands brushed down her neck, over her curves, and down her sides until one came to rest at the top of her thigh and the other moved back to tease her breast. 

Her own hands found their way into his hair, scraped gently up his scalp and held him close until she almost couldn’t breathe for the racing of her pulse. Wherever he touched glowed with pleasure and when his touch moved away it ached for his return. If only she could bathe in that touch, then it might just barely be enough, to have him everywhere at once.

She whined when he somehow managed to work up under her skirt and she felt that warmth on her bare skin, his mouth continuing its path across her jaw and down her neck.

It was with a supreme effort of will that she managed to put her hand on top of his and form words.

“Loki.” She backed away from him a couple of inches. “Loki?”

His tongue still trailed a hot path across the base of her neck. “Hmmm?”

Sigyn’s breath hitched and her faced washed over with an uncharacteristic blush. “Loki, we can’t do . . . everything.”

He paused at that, though he didn’t look up. “Sorry?” His thumb began tracing a pattern back and forth over her so-very-much-damp underwear.

“We can’t . . . aargh.” She clamped down on his hand once more and took a deep breath. “. . . you can’t do this. I’m not going to risk getting tossed out of the court because I’ve given birth to a royal bastard.”

“Pssht.” His thumb started its insistent pattern again, while his mouth moved to place wet kisses just under her ear. “I know spells.”

She gasped, then shoved his shoulder back. “I’m sure you do — you used to have a bit of a reputation— but you know as well as I do that those spells don’t always work.”

He stopped. “What do you mean, I ‘used to have a reputation’?”

“Shit. I mean . . . dammit . . . well, I heard . . .” Her brow now scrunched up. “Um. . . someone might have mentioned that your popularity has fallen off a bit since . . . you know . . .” He pointedly did not help her out. She huffed. “Since Laufey attacked you.”

“Someone,” he deadpanned.

“A guardsman.” She started twisting his shirt. 

“A guardsman.”

“A bunch of them.”

“Were talking about me after the attack? To you?”

She actively avoided his eyes. “Maaayyybee?”

“The attack you didn’t remember anything about when I came in to see Eir.”

Sigyn’s head jolted up, eyes wide only to be met with a smirk.

“Ha! You knew all about it, didn’t you?” 

She raised her chin, but stayed resolutely silent.

“You were asking about it — about me — weren’t you?”

“I was not!” 

“A blush like that does not lie, you little vixen.”

“Oh! If you call me that one more time, I will break all of the fingers on your sword hand!”

He just snickered in response. “And how do _you_ know all about the efficacy of sterility spells?”

“Shut up. I work with soldiers and the house staff, ok? Do you think they only come see me when they’ve got a broken arm or a cooking blister?”

“Well, I can assure you that my spells are always very effective.”

“ _Well_ , you’ve always used your spells on Aesir.”

“Yeeeesss . . . what’s your point?”

“I’m not Aesir — I don’t know what I am, and I’ve, um, never had the need to work out the chemistry involved in this sort of thing.”

“So what you’re saying is . . .”

“I’m saying we can’t do this unless you think that after knowing me for a month you’ve magically become so infatuated that you want to move heaven and earth to convince your parents to let you marry a mystery alien peasant.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” he replied undaunted, “we will just have to find other ways to fulfill ourselves,” and his fingers returned to their merciless assault, this time slipping underneath the fabric to slide into her slick warmth. “Mmmmm . . .” he sighed, “that is a perfect treasure.” 

Sigyn squeaked her reply, fist clenching his hair tight with surprise. Loki unknotted the fingers of one hand from his hair and guided her down to his crotch. 

“Ohhhhhh . . .” Their sighs were virtually simultaneous as she first caressed him, then squeezed his length, before finally unlacing his trousers. She kneaded the flesh of his rear with both hands as she pushed his pants down just far enough to allow a good, solid grip on his cock. He whimpered and bucked into her fist as she first pumped over his length and then lightened her touch to tease the sensitive skin. 

Loki increased his attentions to her core, and a stream of raunchy oaths started tumbling out of Sigyn’s mouth as Loki pushed her closer to climax, thumb teasing her outside while slick fingers stimulated her inside. Suddenly her back went rigid as she came — her fists gripped him tight, one nearly ripping his shirt and the other clamped down on his dick. As she relaxed slightly, he covered her hand with his own urging her movements until he reached his own peak with a strangled oath. 

They stayed exactly like that for several long moments foreheads together, breathing heavily until Sigyn started to giggle. Loki pulled back with a puzzled look, and she pulled him close for a lingering kiss still vibrating with the hum of her laugher, until he started to snigger, as well. She broke the kiss and peppered his face with giggly kisses, holding the side of his face with one hand, while her other remained below, slowly caressing him as he went soft. 

She snorted. “That was fun.”

“It was quite the most enjoyable thing I have done in many days. You know for a mystery alien peasant, your basic anatomy feels very familiar, and quite responsive.” His eyes danced as he moved in for another deep drink of her lips. 

She pulled back again, laughing, and wiped her hand on the inside of her skirts. “I’m a mess! Somehow I’ll have to sneak in and change clothes before Eir sees me.”

“That, at least, I can help with,” and the green shimmer of his seider swept over her skirts to clean them off.

“That, too, is a trick I’ll need to learn.”

“It just takes a little bit of control.”

She scowled — “I don’t need to be controlled.”

“No, you have to control yourself.” He grabbed her wrist as she went to smack him again, then pulled her close by the back of the neck for another kiss, “but not always.”

“I’ve got enough control to keep you in line.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

Sigyn just smirked and kissed him again before hopping off the table. She glanced out the window to look at the sun. “Goat’s piss! I need to go home.” She turned to gather up her notebook and close up the book.

Loki ran his fingers over the binding. “Why are you reading this, anyway?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what I am. I thought there might be clues in here. I had no idea it would be such hard going.” She picked up the heavy text and walked over to the stacks.

“Have you made much progress?”

“Yes and no. I think I’ve figured out how to read it, but I haven’t found anything helpful about my origins — though I have learned plenty of other obscure bits of trivia about the universe.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” as she lifted the book up onto a shelf, “Did you know Midgarders originally evolved on a southern continent? And after just a few thousand years of migration to the north they utterly forgot their own origins?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They’re terrible record keepers — no respect for their own history at all.”

Their voices trailed off as they left the main reading room and headed out the front doors. After they were gone an elegant figure moved over to the shelves to pull the book off the shelf once more. As she opened the text in a secluded corner, a golden curtain of hair fell around her face. Amora sneered to herself, “Well, you overgrown peasant, you had better start reading faster, because once I’m finished with this book, I’ll be more than able to put you back in your proper place, and — much more importantly — eliminate your Jotun runt of a boyfriend. _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title was inspired by Shakespeare sonnet 135:  
> Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'  
> And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus;  
> More than enough am I that vex thee still,  
> To thy sweet will making addition thus.  
> Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,  
> Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?  
> Shall will in others seem right gracious,  
> And in my will no fair acceptance shine?  
> The sea all water, yet receives rain still  
> And in abundance addeth to his store;  
> So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will'  
> One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.  
> Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;  
> Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'


	9. After: "Like a fantastic ague"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up where chapter 6 left off – to the morning after Sigyn has recovered her memories. Some difficult truths will have to faced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ague: n. a sickness or fever

Mid-morning sunlight flooded the room as the blue sky reflected off the new snow outside. They had slept late in the wake of yesterday’s emotional maelstrom, but now reality came beating at Loki’s consciouness much like the sun’s unavoidable light. He fidgeted as he leaned against the headboard while Sigyn sat nested between his legs.

“If she’s alive, she’ll come back.”

“She’s alive.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Then you need to learn to control your seider.”

“Piss off, Loki! I’m not having this conversation again. Did I have training before I beat her aristocratic ass the last time?”

“Those little side effects, then, were entirely intentional?”

“Fuck you.” 

“I would be delighted to, dearest, but we really need to resolve this first.” Loki barely managed to catch her arm before the elbow caught him in the ribs, and he sighed in an attempt to resettle into their former ease. He ran his hand down Sigyn’s arms to lace their fingers together and pulled her closer.

Sigyn swore under her breath and tried to pull away. “Goddammit . . .” 

Loki tightened his grip and nuzzled into her neck. “No. Sigyn, we have to talk about this. Think what you could have done if you had been able to focus that spell and keep it localized. The amount of power you unleashed should have obliterated her. Instead, it just damaged her and then scattered.”

“Shut up, Loki!”

“No. Not this time. You’ve pushed this away for too long.”

“Eir told me —“

“I don’t care what Eir told you! She doesn’t know. She can’t know. We’ve been through this over and over. Eir cannot wield seider. Any speculations she made about your seider were the product of fear.”

“Fear? What could she possibly have to fear? Her first and last thought was my protection. She always wanted what was best for me.”

“She was afraid she would lose you.”

“Horseshit!”

“I didn’t say it was logical. You were all she had. Her partner was long gone. She was unable to have children. She depended on you for everything. She told me.”

“Told you what?! When was this?”

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes while he let out his breath slowly. _Don’t bite back. We cannot do this. They will be waiting for her to explode. Judging. Especially now._

Loki explained, “We spoke after you disappeared. Before I came here to wait for you.” His expression briefly twisted with bitterness before he wiped it clean and continued, “She said she was sorry she hadn’t sent you to a tutor, that she had meant to, had even put aside money for it when you were an infant, but that she wanted to keep you at home. She was afraid that a sorceress would discover what you had hidden, and Eir was frightened that when your teacher made that discovery she would be cruel just like the other children had been cruel. And she was also afraid that you would decide the life of a healer was too mundane, that you would get bored and leave her.”

Sigyn hugged herself and squeezed her eyes shut, drew her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. He felt her tension, felt the anger building in her.

“Let me help you, dearest. Please.” Loki ran his hand gently up and down her spine while keeping a soft grip on her shoulder. He could feel the anger begin to accumulate as warmth in an aura around her. _No, no, please! This cannot happen here. Not now. It will just prove their deepest fears._

“Dearest, can you breathe? Please take a deep breath for me.” He willed himself to swallow his own tension and to radiate soothing energy. “I am here for you, dearheart. For as long as you need or want me to be.”

He felt her muscles tense further, watched her hands ball into fists as she worked to contain herself. She finally inhaled deeply. 

“That’s it,” he whispered calmly. “Can you take another like that?”

She took another deep, slow breath, but she spoke in a strangled voice, “I cannot hold it in.”

“You can, Sigyn. You are capable of anything. Just keep breathing.”

Sigyn’s indignation began to pour out. “She actually had the money for lessons! She _could_ have done it! She had the means!” Her voice was strangled as her muscles strained to contain her seider.

Loki’s voice remained deep, soft, soothing. “Concentrate on my voice, Sigyn. Be here with me.”

Tears trickled down her cheek. “She _decided_! And then lied to me about the reasons!”

The glass on a portrait snapped across the room.

Her voice was now heavy with suppressed sobs. “I can’t keep it in, Loki. I will never control it. I am a monster.”

He flinched at her phrasing. “You are not, and you can. We can. We have each other. No one — nothing will change that.” His left hand continued its slow caresses over her back and shoulders. “Breathe for me once more?”

Her hands covered her face, but she took in another deep lungful of air. And another. After an age her muscles began to unknot. Another age and she leaned back against him once more, and Loki shifted her legs sideways so he could cradle her in his arms. 

When she spoke next, her voice came as quiet as a lost child’s. “She lied.”

Loki kissed her forehead. “She did.”

“And now I am broken. I can’t unlearn this rage. It is bigger than I am. It controls me.”

“No. Sigyn. You are so much more. We will send for books. I am sure Thor will give us whatever I ask for, within reason. We will study together, and you will learn. It’s like learning to wield a weapon— difficult at first, but through practice it becomes instinctual, like muscle memory.”

“You said Odin was no longer king.”

“Yes.”

“Could we not just go back to Asgard and study there? Surely that would be safer than waiting here for Amora to come looking for us.”

“We cannot.”

“Seriously? Thor cannot have been so petty as to have banished you. He always supported you, even when you went to trial.”

“I have not been banished.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Loki screwed up his courage before he replied. “You have been banished.”

“What? I’ve been banished? For what? Doing their work for them? Embarrassing them for uncovering their stupidity?”

Loki clamped his mouth shut.

“Loki? Answer me.”

“Not as long as you’re angry. I don’t want you to break any more of my things.”

She glared at him, but he remained silent.

“Loki!”

He shook his head.

Sigyn huffed and shifted off his lap.

“Do whatever you need to do, but I won’t give you any more information until I’m sure my windows are no longer in danger. It’s cold out there.”

Sigyn glared at him and then pushed herself off the bed to pace the floor, then she walked up and down the hallway while Loki got up, cleaned off the sheets with a wave of shimmering light, and straightened the covers. By the time he finished she had returned and plopped into a soft chair. 

She looked over at him after yet another deep breath and asked, “Ok, now will you tell me why, in his infinite wisdom, Thor has decided that I must be banished?”

“Don’t blame him — it was not his decision alone. A council of elders debated for several days. They read through all of the accounts related to Amora, her relations with Balder, her research, her discovery and use of the stone, her vendetta against us, as well as your actions while I was in prison. They looked at everything. Thor acted on their unanimous recommendation.”

“And their reasoning was . . .?”

“They came to the conclusion that, even though you had acted out of moral outrage, and even though your actions were ultimately to the benefit of all Asgard, that you could not be permitted to reside there any more,” and now it was Loki’s turn to take a deep breath, looking down at his hands before raising his eyes once more to hers, “because they believe you are too dangerous to be permitted to return.”

“How can they do that? I’ve lived there all my life.”

And here a cynical grin appeared as he remembered how she had once described herself. “They can do that, my mystery alien peasant, because you aren’t Asgardian. As you are an alien, they can simply refuse to allow your re-entry. It’s all very legal — much simpler than banishment, in fact. And Thor felt that, given the upheaval caused by the whole mess, it was a small price to pay. It brought a measure of political stability to the start of his reign, and at that point, the sentence was only theoretical, really, since you had disappeared, anyway. He was surprised when I insisted on following you, but he is the only one that tried to change my mind. The Aesir are as they have always been — a bunch of xenophobic hypocrites.”

“But, technically, you could go back.”

“I could — a strange turn of events, is it not?”

They sat in silence for a long time, processing. Sigyn stared at the floor, replaying her memories, trying to suture them onto what Loki had told her. 

Loki went downstairs, brewed some tea, and brought it upstairs for her. Poured a cup, placed it in her hands, and tidied up the rest of the room — sweeping up the pieces of the broken vase, taking down the picture and healing the cracks in its protective glass.

Sigyn took small sips of the tea while she sat, eyes occasionally drifting up as they caught Loki’s movements about the room, then looking into the depths of her cup, as if some algorithm lay at the bottom that would suddenly impose order on her universe once more.

Once he finished all of the trivial details he could think to occupy himself with, Loki sat in the chair next to hers, poured himself a cup of tea, and waited.

He had waited over 100 years. He could wait a bit longer.

**************

It was well past noon when she finally spoke. Setting the teacup on the side table, she screwed up her mouth and looked him in the eyes. “Fine.”

He quirked an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. 

“Fine,” she repeated. “Let’s try to teach me . . . something. Whatever we can, I guess, before the crazy lady shows up again. Make a list of books you want Thor to send, and make sure That Book is on the top of the list. We need to figure out how to take the stone back where it belongs, wherever that is. The sooner the better. In fact, it might be easier if you just retrieved the books yourself and brought them back.”

His response came quick. “No.”

“It would save time.”

“No. I just got you back. I’m not leaving.”

“Loki, be reasonable.”

“No. I’ll make a list.” And he stood up to go to the library for pen and paper.

***************

A hour later, Loki stood out in the yard calling to Heimdal for assistance, “Please send a messenger, Gatekeeper. I have a letter for my king.”

“You know, he would still hear you from inside the house,” Sigyn teased when he stepped back into the kitchen.

“Not actually,” Loki replied smugly. “I sealed the house when I brought you home. I thought a modicum of privacy would be nice.”

“Even before I remembered?”

“I was hopeful.” He leaned in for kiss, and they pulled each other close, hands tangled in each others’ hair, re-acquainting themselves with each others’ curves and angles. 

They were interrupted by a sharp banging on the door, “Brother! Stop molesting your wife and open the door!”

“Some things never change,” Loki sighed.

Sigyn snorted, and stepped over to invite her brother-in-law inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a quote from one of John Donne's Holy Sonnets:
> 
> Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:  
> Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot  
> A constant habit; that when I would not  
> I change in vows, and in devotion.  
> As humorous is my contrition  
> As my profane love, and as soon forgot:  
> As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,  
> As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.  
> I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today  
> In prayers and flattering speeches I court God:  
> Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.  
> So my devout fits come and go away  
> Like a fantastic ague; save that here  
> Those are my best days, when I shake with fear.


	10. After — “Thy firmness makes my circle just, / And makes me end where I begun.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up precisely where the previous ends. Thor drops by for a visit, and then Loki begins offering Sigyn some seider lessons. This could get dangerous.

Thor hesitated for a moment as he stepped inside, gauging how welcome he might be — he remembered Sigyn’s temper with painful clarity. Finally, he mumbled to himself, “Goat’s piss, I don’t care,” and he flung his arms around her, squeezing the breath out of her and swinging her around the kitchen like a rag doll.

“Holy Hel, Thor, I can’t breathe! Put me down!”

When he finally did set her down, she had to catch herself on the table to keep from falling, while Thor thumped his brother on the shoulder so hard Loki nearly knocked over a chair.

Thor grinned at them as they recovered. “I am so glad to see you safe, Sigyn. We feared that you had been lost forever.”

She furrowed her brow and frowned, rejoining, “It sounds as though some of you were more hopeful about that than worried.”

Thor sobered quickly, but managed to hold her gaze as he apologized, “I am sorry. Fear ruled the hearts of many during the aftermath of those events. I still hope that more reasonable voices might prevail and alter those poisonous words. I would like to welcome you home again someday, and welcome Loki home with you.”

Thor’s gaze turned to his brother. “I miss you, Loki. I could use your sharp wit at court, and your perceptive intellect. You would keep me honest.”

Loki snorted, “That, Thor, is not something I ever thought to hear come out of anyone’s mouth— especially yours.”

The joke eased the tension slightly, and they invited Thor into the living room. “How long can you stay?” Loki asked.

“A few hours. I have to meet with a trade delegation from Vanaheim this evening.”

“Ah, the life of a king,” Sigyn teased. “How do politics suit you?”

“I will not rise to your bait, Sigyn, I am too pleased to see you safe. When Heimdal said Loki had brought someone to his house, I stayed away only with great difficulty. I hoped.”

Sigyn dropped her gaze to the floor. “I did not think it would have mattered to you so much.”

“You did not see Loki after you left. I liked you well enough before,” he held up a hand to forstall her anger. “I liked you for yourself,” he continued, “even before you married my brother, but I did not know you. After you disappeared, I learned to see you through his eyes. You and Loki are my family.” Loki’s eyebrow flew up, but Thor remained insistent. “Even moreso now, because you are family by choice, not just through an accident of blood. When Heimdal said you wished to send a message, Loki, I dropped everything at the chance to see you.”

A long pause followed this declaration, until suddenly Sigyn stood up, declaring, “Tea, I think. I’ll go heat water for some tea.” And she hurried out of the room to the kitchen.

Loki narrowed his eyes and pulled his mouth into a half frown. “Are you sure you are really my brother and not some changling demon? I do not recognize this creature.”

Thor gave a short laugh but offered a serious response. “I left too many things unsaid when we were young, Loki, and allowed too many things to be said that should have been squashed. You paid for that. You are still paying for that, but it shall be righted some day soon.”

Loki shrugged. “For my own part, I care not, but I want to lay the foundation for some justice on Sigyn’s behalf. We plan to begin some training. I have a list of books I would like you to pull from my old library, and a few from the archives. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, but would you not rather fetch them yourself?”

“Only if Sigyn could come with me.”

“Ah.” Thor paused. “I can’t permit that.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Are you sure you can’t return, even for just a day now that you know where she is?”

“What do you think?”

Now they both paused, before Thor answered with a sigh, “I will have the books found and bring them to you myself.”

“Would you please pull the books yourself, as well?”

“It will take longer that way — I have obligations that cannot be delayed.”

“That is fine. I would rather no one know which books I have asked for. Having been away so long, I do not know whom I can trust.”

“What do you suspect?”

“I do not even know yet, but you know I believe in always playing my cards close to my chest.”

“At one time, I thought you were stupid, even immoral, to do so, but I have learned to trust your instincts. I will be discreet, and try to be expiditious, as well.”

“Thank you.”

Just then Sigyn called them into the kitchen for tea and a light lunch. When Thor left a few hours later, he took a pocketful of cookies, a list of books with a seal only he could break, and one or two tear stains on his cloak.

Once alone again, Loki wasted no time. “I don’t think we can afford to wait for the books. We should start your training immediately.”

Sigyn sighed. Thor had only just left. “You’re probably right. Shall we have supper first?”

“Just a light meal. We can eat again before we go to bed.”

Once they had eaten and cleared the dishes, Loki led Sigyn into an attic room with little furniture and no windows. “Fewer distractions, no witnesses, and less stuff to get broken,” he declared.

Sigyn snorted. “Excellent idea, all things considered.”

Loki produced a small wad of paper, and at Sigyn’s questioning look, he explained, “You know potions. You know how to cast basic illusions, and levitations spells. The issue, really, is —“

“Control.” She frowned.

“Control. Yes. So I want you to levitate this object, and hold it steady for as long as possible, regardless of distractions.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

He gave her a challenging look and tossed it up in the air. 

And there it hung.

“How long do I have to do this?”

“Until I say the lesson’s over.”

“Oh come on.”

“What’s that phrase in Wy? ‘Patience is a virtue.’”

“Who says that?”

“I’m sure I heard one of them say it.”

“Now you’re just trying to distract me.”

“Of course I am, that’s the point.”

 _Grumble_.

Another minute of silence passed before a fly began buzzing through her line of sight. It floated through intricate patterns for a bit, when a second joined it in a little synchronized dance. 

Sigyn rolled her eyes.

Then one of the flies broke off from the dance and moved closer, landing right on her nose and crawling over her cheek. Sigyn brushed away and it landed on her ear.

“Aaargh!” She tried to squash it with her shoulder and the paper dropped to the floor.

“Piss!”

Loki grinned, but wisely kept his comments to himself.

“Again,” he said.

“Fine.”

He tossed it in the air again, and this time the flies started in immediately, buzzing around her head, landing in her hair, on her face, on her neck. Sigyn managed to keep the paper steady until finally,

“Enough!” — both flies and the wad of paper all exploded in little bursts of flame.

Loki sighed. “Right. No points you, two points me.” 

Sigyn rumbled deep in her chest.

“Did you just growl at me?”

“I might have, you wretch.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should we stop this now, or are you really going to work at this?”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Loki tossed a second wad of paper into the air and they started again. And again. And again. And the next morning. And afternoon. . . .

Two days later, after Thor dropped off a first stack of books culled from Loki’s shelves, they were back at it, though progress was definitely being made. By the time they stopped for lunch, Sigyn was juggling three wads of paper while being dive-bombed by a random assortment of small birds. 

Now Loki thought she was ready for a different sort of challenge.

“A simple globe of light — an easy spell. Do you know it?”

She blushed. “No.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. How would you know if you haven’t been taught? Here, I’ll show you.”

He showed her the rune, taught her the words, and FLASH! They were both practically blinded by the light.

“Odin’s balls! Did I do that?”

“Well, it wasn’t me, dearest.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Let’s try that again, but . . . smaller.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, opened them, and the room was flooded with white light.

“Ok, that’s much better. Still brighter than I would expect, but it’s steady, and not unbearable to look at.”

Sigyn smiled and looked over at Loki, but as soon as she did— FLASH! The light strobed brightly and then went out.

“Ok, once more, yes?”

Sigyn sighed deeply. “Ok.”

Again she took a breath, closed her eyes, opened them . . .

“Perfect.”

She smiled once more, but this time kept her eyes on the spell. 

“Now, let it sit for a few moments and just try to keep the light steady . . . Good. Now can you make it smaller?”

It took a minute, but she did.

“Excellent. Now, very slowly, make it bigger.” 

They worked on light spells and their variations for the next three days — mornings and evenings — while in the afternoons they read through the texts, looking for spells that would make a useful foundation — spells that were flexible enough to be built on rather than of single use. 

On the fourth day, Loki declared a morning off. “You’re exhausted, dearheart. Stay in bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.” She gratefully flopped back down into the pillows and was sound asleep when he returned. He crawled under the covers with her, and they spent a lazy morning in bed.

At mid-day, Loki ventured down the stairs to forage for lunch when a familiar fist pounded on the door.

“Loki! Are you there?”

“Thor!” He opened the door and let his brother in, hair covered with snow. 

He stamped his feet and shook the heavy flakes off his cloak before resting a large package on the table. “They did not want to let me take it off world. If I had understood what it was when you asked, I might not have promised to bring it.”

Loki peeked into the package to confirm his suspicions. “And I am honored by this show of faith in me. I will not abuse it.”

“Why do you need this thing? The other texts were all just elementary books of seider.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I know many things of which you are unaware, brother.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “This is what Amora was reading before she found the stone.”

“So you think.”

“Sigyn thinks. More than thinks, actually; she is absolutely sure.”

“How long will you need it? The archivist is quite nervous about my leaving this here.”

“With me.”

Thor heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I am sorry. I must say, however, that I also am nervous about this text remaining outside the protection of the archives for very long. How much time will you need?”

“I wish I knew.”

After Thor left, they took the afternoon off, as well, before resuming lessons that evening. 

“Let’s return to that simple light spell and combine it with the first lessons on control.”

Sigyn groaned. “Not more flies.”

“You don’t like the flies?”

“By all that’s sacred, Loki, can we not do flies?”

Loki paused to think, then his eyes slowly traveled over her form as an evil little grin suffused his face. 

Sigyn burst out, “Oh, goat’s piss, Loki, I’ll take the flies over whatever it is that you just thought of.”

“Oh no!” He was positively gleeful. “Too late now dearest. You requested ‘no flies,’ and so there will be no flies.”

He placed her in the center of the room and moved about four feet in front of her, raised his palm to chest height, and said, “Create a small globe of light just here.”

She did — a perfect little lamp-like glow of about 6” in diameter.

“Excellent. Now hold it there. Your goal is to make sure that it gets no smaller or larger, no brighter or dimmer than this no matter what happens, no matter what I do.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Just concentrate,” he smirked.

He walked around her, stopping just as he reached her peripheral vision. “Can you maintain it if I break your line of sight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s see.” And he stepped right in front of her. The light dimmed briefly before flaring back to its original brightness.

“Well done.”

He continued his circuit around her until he stood right behind her. He then moved until she could feel the heat of him through her clothes, then he pressed himself against her, and for a few minutes remained perfectly still. 

“What in Hel’s name are you going to do, you sneaky bastard?”

“You,” he says quietly as he pulled her hair gently to the side, “are the only one who will ever get away with calling me that.” And then he leaned down to softly take her earlobe between his teeth, sucking gently. The light flared briefly.

“Ah ah aahh,” he chided. “Keep the flame perfectly steady.”

“Oh you are a bastard.”

Loki threaded his fingers into her hair, pulled her head sidways and paused there, just breathing on her neck, watching the goosebumps appear, chuckling as her breathing changed.

He used a finger next, tracing lightly over the shell of her ear, then trailing down her neck first with one, then two, then three dextrous fingers, tracing the edge of her collar. He moved his mouth close to her skin once more. “You are so exquisite. Your intoxicating smell.” And he inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly over her skin. “The perfect column of your neck.” He swiped at it with his tongue before latching on for a sloppy, wet kiss, humming with pleasure. “The inviting softness of your curves.” He ghosted his hands down her sides and over the curve of her rear.

“You aren’t playing fair.”

He huffed. “Who ever said anything about fair? Do you think that aristocratic cow is going to play fair? No.” Loki punctuated his remark by reaching both arms around Sigyn’s waist and pulling her tight against him. “She will have learned all sorts of dirty tricks while she’s been away, and we need to be ready for her. Concentrate on that flame. In fact, don’t even move unless I move you. Just keep that flame steady. You.” He moved a hand to her breast. “Must remain.” He caressed it softly. “In.” He pinched her nipple hard. “Control.”

She gasped out loud at the sudden pain, but managed to keep the light steady in spite of her surprise.

He returned to soft touches, holding her against him with one arm about her waist, while the other hand scratched lightly at her nipples through the fabric of her tunic, then suddenly pinching her hard enough to raise a whimper as he ground himself against her back. 

But the light didn’t alter.

“You’re doing so well, dearest. Let’s raise the stakes again, shall we?”

She only respond with a ragged breath and a quiet “ok,” as she blinked at the light in front of her.

Loki breathed out his approval right next to her ear as he gave her breasts one more squeeze. Quick digits then worked free her belt and nimbly picked apart the buttons on her tunic. “Hmmm . . . such soft skin. I missed you desperately while you were gone. Nearly every night, I dreamed about touching you, of sliding my hands up your bare skin just like this, of watching your breasts as I pressed them together like this, of licking those beautiful hard nipples and taking them in my teeth, listening to you cry out right on the edge between pleasure and pain.” He piched hard as said that, eliciting just those cries he described. “So many times, I woke up in the middle of the night sticky with my own spill, aching for you.” 

She whimpered once more as he thrust up against her again, and a hand glided down her belly into her breeches, sliding into her wetness.

“Do you think you can do it? Keep the spell steady while I fuck you with my fingers? Can you hold it steady while I make you gush over my hand?” 

Sigyn replied with an incoherent, strangled cry as he stroked her soaking cunt. “My dreams were filled with your cries of ecstasy. You are all I wanted. Your warmth. Your soft . . . hard . . . tight . . . wet . . .”

Her breathing became erratic, broken by whimpers impossible to bite back, even as she kept her eyes rivited on the floating sphere of light. 

“Oh how I burned to feel it as I thrust deep into you, listened to the sounds of your euphoria as you arched under me.”

Loki felt her tense as the wave crashed over her, and he held her up with one arm wrapped tightly around her ribs, his aching cock trapped between them. As she cried out, he closed his own eyes, completely taken over by his own pleasure. Minutes passed before he gathered himself enough to open his eyes once more, his legs barely able to support the two of them. He buried his face in her shoulder, while their breathing slowly returned to normal.

Loki softly laughed at himself. “For the love of all that’s holy, Sigyn, I haven’t come in my pants since I was a teenager.” He turned to look at her, chagrined. 

She was completely triumphant. 

“Look!” she said.

The light hadn’t waivered a bit.

“I’d say that’s progress, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I think we should try this again soon, though, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from this John Donne poem, written for his wife before he leaves for a trip to France:
> 
> Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
> 
> As virtuous men pass mildly away,  
>  And whisper to their souls to go,  
> Whilst some of their sad friends do say,  
>  “The breath goes now," and some say, “No,"
> 
> So let us melt, and make no noise,  
>  No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;  
> ‘Twere profanation of our joys  
>  To tell the laity our love.
> 
> Moving of the earth brings harms and fears,  
>  Men reckon what it did and meant;  
> But trepidation of the spheres,  
>  Though greater far, is innocent.
> 
> Dull sublunary lovers’ love  
>  (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit  
> Absence, because it doth remove  
>  Those things which elemented it.
> 
> But we, by a love so much refined  
>  That our selves know not what it is,  
> Inter-assured of the mind,  
>  Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
> 
> Our two souls therefore, which are one,  
>  Though I must go, endure not yet  
> A breach, but an expansion.  
>  Like gold to airy thinness beat.
> 
> If they be two, they are two so  
>  As stiff twin compasses are two:  
> Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show  
>  To move, but doth, if the other do;
> 
> And though it in the center sit,  
>  Yet when the other far doth roam,  
> It leans, and hearkens after it,  
>  And grows erect, as that comes home.
> 
> Such wilt thou be to me, who must,  
>  Like the other foot, obliquely run;  
> Thy firmness makes my circle just,  
>  And makes me end where I begun.


	11. Before — “No man is an island, entire of itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter flashes back once more, picking up where ch. 8 left off. Loki is fully recovered from Laufey’s attack. He should be happy. Ah, but the course of true love never did run smooth.

Loki leaned back into the exam chair smirking while Sigyn ran her hands over his arm and inspected what remained of the wound. He ran his hand up and down her thigh while she worked.  
She clenched her jaw. “Stop it!” She hissed. “Eir could walk through that door at any minute.”  
He snorted and then dropped his hand. “Fine. You’re no fun.”  
Sigyn glance quickly around the room, frozen while she listened, then quickly leaned over and stole a sloppy kiss.  
“No. I’m no fun at all. You, however,” and she traced her hand over his arm as she stood back up, “are done.”  
He furrowed his brow. “Sorry?”  
“Done. You’re past the point where you need any medication. I don’t have anything for you today, and I guess,” she heaved a sigh, “you don’t have to keep coming around every three days to get dosed up. The blade’s magic has all been cleaned out of your system, and the wound has healed itself well enough that I no longer have to keep feeding you antibiotics. In fact,” she added sheepishly, “you were done three days ago. That last dose was just juice.”  
He smirked. “Oh you are a sneak.”  
“I get it from my boyfriend.”  
“Well, I could fake another injury,” he snickered.  
She smiled, “Someone might begin to suspect.”  
“I think I am about to contract some horrible illness that only frost giants are suseptible to.”  
“You think Odin would fall for that?”  
“I don’t think Odin would care, but the weapons’ master might.”  
“Yeah. So . . .” She sighed.  
“Well, I can keep meeting you in the library.”  
“We need to be more careful about that — I’m sure Thor saw us a few days ago on our way out.”  
Loki dismissed that quickly. “Thor only notices what’s on the end of a fork or his hammer. I’m not worried about him.”  
“But you’ll have to go back to doing whatever it is princes do, won’t you? Now that you’re better?”  
“Probably. But I’ll sneak away whenever I can.”  
“Sure.” They both fell silent, idly tangling their fingers together, neither willing to leave just yet. Neither quite sure how to prolong it, given Eir’s proximity down the hall.  
Sigyn fumbled for something to talk about. “Can you remove the spell, now that you know it’s there?”  
Loki cocked his head in confusion. “What spell?”  
“That maintains your Aesir form.”  
“It’s not a spell.”  
Sigyn furrowed her brow at him. “Of course it is.”  
“No. It’s not a spell.”  
She looked at him as though he were either daft or deliberately obtuse. “How would you explain your appearance, then — the fair complexion, and your warm skin?”  
“It’s some sort of physical reaction to living in a warmer climate.”  
“Do you _really_ think that?”  
Loki flushed, clenching his jaw. “How would you explain it?”  
“I would explain it as a concealing spell, cast by someone trying to disguise your true nature — it’s fairly complicated, since it doesn’t just mask your appearance, but your internal tempertaure, as well.”  
“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” he shot back at her. “If it were an illusion, Laufey’s blade wouldn’t have had any affect on it — why did my arm turn blue? Poison wouldn’t affect an illusion.”  
Again, she looked at him as though he were stupid. “It wasn’t poisoned.”  
“What? Of course it was, I felt it.”  
“Oh come on. You have to have figured this out. There was no poison. The blade was enchanted so that it blocked other magics — it’s a trick I ran across in an old text. It’s meant to block healing spells — that’s why the wound didn’t heal, and that’s why your antedotes didn’t work. There was no poison to counteract. And that’s why your arm turned blue — it blocked the illusion, too.”  
He just stared at her, frustration writ large across his face.  
“I can’t believe you didn’t figure that out. I’ve never had any seider training, and I could tell. Though I am pretty good at spotting certain kinds of illusions.”  
Loki’s hackles were well and truly rufffled at this point, and he openly scoffed at her declaration. “How is that possible?”  
“Illusions are the only complicated magic I can perform — everything else I do is just blocking, or clumsy kinetic manipulation.”  
He poked the bear. “Like starting fires?”  
She glared at him. “I still don’t know how I did that. It just happened.”  
“Hmph. What sort of illusions can you do?” He was still clearly dubious.  
She paused for a bit to do her own calculating, then instead of answering, she rolled up a sleeve and held out her hand. It was a beautiful hand. He liked it very much — long, finely formed fingers, only slightly toughened up from her fieldwork, porcelain skin. As he watched, though, the skin darkened to a burnished copper.  
“That sort of illusion,” she declared as she flipped her hand over a couple of times to give him a good look. After a bit she shifted the color back to the pale complexion he was used to.  
He furrowed his brow, confused. “I had no idea.”  
A smug look passed over Sigyn’s face when he said that, only to get wiped clean by his next question, which was tinged with defensive hostility. “Why do you do that?”  
She took a deep breath as if to brace herself. “To make people shut up. I was teased a lot when I was little, because of my dark skin and because of my “mysterious parentage” — in the absence of information, people make things up, and kids repeat it. Apparently there was a good deal of speculation about my ansestry, and the color of my skin led some to guess that I was Heimdal’s rejected bastard. Or that I was a dark elf — as if they even knew what one looked like. You Aesir are a pretty xenophobic lot, you know that? So as soon as I discovered I could cast illusions, I camoflaged myself. It’s been so long I don’t even remember how I figured it out, but it worked. People commented on my lighter skin at first, but they got over it. Everyone was perfectly content to forget all about it as long as my skin was the correct color. I blend in. Well, better than I did, any way.”  
Loki was not mollified. “‘We Aesir’?! Freya’s tits! Don’t you lump me in with those those pompous hypocrites. What else have you hidden? What do you really look like?”  
“What are you talking about?! Do you think maybe I’m hiding a bunch a tentacles growing out of my head? Come off it. You hide things all the time. It’s practically instinctual! I find it very hard to believe, in fact, that you didn’t know about this concealment spell. I figured it out within five minutes. How could you _not_ know? It’s been there all your life. The whole time you studied seider. With a supposed seider master, I assume. How could _she_ not know? Who the Hel did you study with, anyway? She must have been pretty stupid not to notice the spell — either that or she was bribed.”  
“You had better stop talking _now_ , before you really get yourself in trouble.”  
But Sigyn was on the warpath, and could no more stop than she could quit breathing. “Maybe she was even complicit in maintaining the spell? Who taught you?”  
His face went rigid with fury, and he sat straight up in the chair, leaning in until their noses were millimeters apart.  
“Frigga taught me. Are you calling the Allmother stupid?”  
Sigyn’s eyes flew wide in astonishment. “Oh.” But then a series of emotions played over both their faces in rapid succession as they simultaneously arrived at identical conclusions.  
“Oh Hel,” she whispered. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. Loki. I’m so sorry.”  
“Don’t bother.” Loki strode out of the room, and stalked down the hall.  
She couldn’t even follow him to the doorway, but sat rigid, tears sliding down her face.  
A few days later, Sigyn received a note, accompanied by a small pouch that rattled heavily with coins.  
 _Olga Helmansdottir, Chief of Staff and humble servant to Frigga Allmother, sends greetings to Sigyn Outlander, journeyman and dependant to Eir the Healer._  
 _Through me, the Allmother would like to offer thanks for your many services to herself, her house, and most recently to her son. Please accept the token of our thanks carried by the messenger who carries this missive. Your services to the royal house will no longer be needed, though you will be permitted to continue sevice to the infantry and staff who can afford your fees._  
 _Once again, we are gateful for all you have done for us in the past, and we are glad that we can expect your utmost descretion in all your future pursuits._  
 _With the deepest gratitude for your service, Frau Helmansdottir._  
Sigyn sank heavily to the floor once she had finished reading. _Oh Hel, Sigyn, you idiot! Look what you’ve done. What else are you going to break?_  
 _*************_  
Routine is the key component of denial.  
At least, that’s what Loki kept telling himself. Fully healed, he returned to all normal activities. Except they were by no means “normal.”  
This is not to say anything could be explicitely labeled abnormal. However, there was no denying that just about everything was just a little bit . . . off. He had the same duties, met with the same people, returned to the same training field, attended the same official functions. However, a distinct chill pervaded all of these social situations.  
Granted, no one had stritcly been warm and fuzzy before, but the strangeness that had begun with Laufey’s attack lingered in every interaction — it showed itself in averted eyes, in an uncomfortable shifting as Loki took his seat at a table, in abrupt silences when he entered rooms. For a brief two months, while he had been under Sigyn’s care, he had blithely ignored all of this, his mood bouyed up by the attentions of a wonderful distraction.  
 _But really, that’s all it had been, hadn’t it? A sentimental distraction._  
But sentiment hurt, and was a weakness he felt he couldn’t afford.  
And while there were many people he could not avoid, he could at least avoid her. It took only once to make his decision. He glimpsed her curly head bent over wounded trainee’s stretcher, and directly after he fought off the resulting stab in his chest, Loki held a few conversations with the right people and shifted his own training to the evenings and his research to the mornings.  
Denial is not just a river on Midgard.  
*******  
“Loki! What are you doing down here? You should be on the field.”  
Loki replied to his brother without even pulling his nose out of the book, “I’ve been going down in the evenings — the fighting master has helped me design a regime I can work through by myself.”  
“By yourself? But you are healed, are you not? You cannot train for battle without opponents.”  
“I have been forced to make adjustments in my schedule, since I cannot find a sparring partner.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Loki finally raised his head to offer Thor a withering glare. “You know exactly what I mean. When I go to the field everyone miraculously becomes conspicuously pre-occupied. I can train by myself without simultaneously subjecting myself to that charade.”  
“I do not understand.”  
“Don’t be daft. We both have ears. I know what your friends have said about me.”  
“They are not just my friends. They are your friends, as well. They simply need time to adjust.”  
“Adjust! They will never adjust. Do you not have eyes and ears? They always felt I was less than their equal — _ooohh, Loki, he’s a cheat; he uses seider like a woman; he’s not a real fighter_ — they now simply have a convenient label for their disgust, a confirmation if you will. I am not Aesir. This explains everything to them. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night.”  
“That is not true.”  
Loki just rolled his eyes, and Thor faltered a bit.  
“Even if this is true, you will be able to partner with Balder and I until the others see you are unchanged.”  
“Balder is the worst of them! How can you not see that? Unless your father requires his presence, he walks out of the room as soon as I walk in.”  
“I had not noticed,” was Thor’s sheepish reply. “Are you sure?”  
Loki refused to dignify that with a response, and Thor remained silent for several heartbeats, at a loss for what to say. Loki returned to his book.  
Thor tried once more, and put on a bit of a smirk as he spoke. “Is there not anyone else you would like to see in the mornings?”  
“No.” Loki’s eyes remained steadfastly focused on the page in front of him, but Thor would not relent.  
“Come back to the practice field in the mornings. I will spar with you. I might even let you get a hit.”  
It was a lame excuse for a joke, and Loki pursed his lips as looked up at his brother in exasperation. “Fine. I will go for one week, just to demonstrate that my reflexes are still fast enough to put you on your ass. After that, I am done.”  
Thor smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder before turning to leave Loki to his books.  
*****  
The next morning’s practice wasn’t as horrible as it could have been. Loki scheduled each of his own drills so that he was never idle long enough for any awkward pauses. No one even had to pretend they were unable to work with him. When Thor arrived, his brother spent a conspicuous amount of time inspecting the training of the first-year recruits, talking to their superior officer while one of them suffered treatment for a broken wrist.  
After a bit, Thor made his way across to the more experienced fighters He and Loki worked through several drills together, and sparred once in a careful pattern designed to polish specific skills.  
As soldiers dispersed for the mid-day meal, Loki reluctantly told Thor he would return the next day. Thor’s eyes followed him with a quizzical look as Loki deliberately left the field in a way to avoid passing near the healers’ tent.  
The pattern held until mid-week, when a soldier injured his back near the viewing stands. He couldn’t be moved, and so the healers were forced to tend to his injuries where he lay. Loki had been concentrating on some new knife work, and so didn’t notice until Sigyn was already there. If he left, it would mean a fuss — it would be noticed. So he simply shifted to the edge of the crowd and tried to be reletively inconspicuous.  
Sigyn soon had the injured soldier stabilized, and she commandeered a couple of men to carry her patient off the field.  
On the fringes of the crowd, however, Loki couldn’t help but overhear two first years’ running commentary.  
“So that’s her?”  
“Yeah — Freya’s tits, she’s a real piece, isn’t she? I wonder what’s under that tunic.”  
“And you say she comes down here all by herself some days?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Who’s fucking her?”  
“Hel, Evert, no one fucks her, are you crazy?”  
“Someone must, why else would she come down here all by herself. She must go through the rounds. No women hangs around soldiers for any other reason.”  
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”  
“What? She’s just a camp follower. Plus she’s wearing breeches. Holy Hel, you can see the muscles in her thighs! I’m in.”  
“Evert, you do not know what you’re doing!”  
“Does she have a sweetheart who’s going to challenge me?”  
“No, but Evert —“  
“Then there should be no problem.”  
Loki’s face burned as he listened, and in spite of himself, his fists clenched. _Oh, that insignifant ass wiper will pay for this!_  
Loki made a show of taking his practice weapons back to the shed. While there, he rendered himself invisible so he could follow Evert as he sauntered over to the healers’ tent. The soldier was already inside by the time he arrived, but Loki never made it into the tent.  
“Odin’s balls! Get your hands off me!”  
“Freya’s tits, girl, all I want is a little, sweet — Aaaaaahhhhh! Fucking Hel!”  
A body came flying out of the tent and landed with a solid thud ten feet away. Sigyn followed him as far as the entrance shouting at the top of her voice, “Don’t you _ever_ touch me again!” Then mumbling under her breath, “why do they always have to learn the hard way? Fucking morons. It’s a wonder we ever win any wars with an army staffed with wooden blocks like that . . .”  
She turned to go back into the tent, then stopped in her tracks, staring at the exact spot where Loki stood, invisible. She squinted as if trying to focus of something.  
He could pinpoint the exact second she figured it out. Her back went spear straight. Several conflicting emotions washed over her face in quick succession — angerguiltsadnesslonging— until everything finally resolved into something utterly stoic and unreadable. She took a deep breath and went back to work.  
Loki remained where he was, paralyzed by his own irreconcilable emotions. He watched as the field emptied itself, and as the instructors combed the grounds for any stray debris. When he at last heard Sigyn’s voice giving directions to take her patients to an infirmary, Loki roused himself and crept back to his rooms to nurse his own wounds, and sort out some remedy.  
Once there, Loki sat on his bed, staring at his hands as he slowly shifted from his pale Aesir skin to Jotun blue and and back again over and over.  
She had lied to him.  
Just as Odin had lied.  
And Frigga had lied.  
. . . blue . . . ivory . . . blue . . . ivory . . .  
After their fight in the healers’ rooms, Loki had, of course, strode straight to Frigga’s receiving chambers — how long ago? Several weeks. He asked to speak to his Not-Mother privately, and confronted her with his — their — discovery, that Frigga had concealed his true nature with spells all those years. That she was ashamed of him — why else take such pains to disguise him?  
Frigga did not deny it — well, she denied that she was ashamed — but she did not deny the spell. She asked if he wanted it removed.  
. . . blue . . . ivory . . . blue . . . ivory . . .  
He recoiled in horror at the offer — _absolutely not!_ he had replied. He did demand she teach him the spell, so he controlled his own appearance. And when questioned, he told her how he had found out that is was a spell in the first place, that Sigyn had recognized it.  
And then he had demanded Frigga fire her.  
. . . blue . . .  
Why had he done that?  
 _She lied. She is not what she appears to be, she alters her entire appearance at will. She chooses to be someone else._  
. . . ivory . . .  
 _So do you. Now. You have the choice. You could walk around Asgard in your true colors._  
. . . blue . . .  
 _But you do not_.  
. . . ivory . . .  
 _You are a liar. Who are you telling your lies to, little monster?_  
. . . blue . . . ivory . . .  
 _What other lies are you telling yourself?_  
. . . blue . . .  
 _That you do not care?_  
. . . ivory . . .  
 _That you do not love her?_  
. . . blue . . .  
 _That she will take you back after she trusted you, after she removed her own armor?_  
. . . ivory . . . blue . . . ivory . . . blue . . .  
Loki flopped backward onto his bed, and closed his eyes agaist the raging headache behind them.  
*****  
He woke suddenly hours later to someone pounding on his door.  
“Loki! Open the door!”  
 _Hel’s tavern! What time is it?_ Dark. It was dark out. He was still fully dressed. How long had he slept?  
Another round of meaty fists banging on the door roused him fully.  
“Loki!”  
“I’m coming, Thor! Hang that unholy hammer back on your belt.”  
In the interests of speed, he flicked his wrist and opened the door while he was still half way there.  
“Loki where have you been? Have you been in your room all —“  
Thor stopped. He quickly turned to shut the door.  
“Loki! Your hands!”  
He looked down for the first time, blue. “Goat’s piss!” He quickly reversed the color once more.  
“What the Hel, Loki? Would you please tell me what’s going on?”  
“What do you mean?  
“Oh, now who’s being obtuse?” Thor gestured brusquely at Loki’s hands, and then at the bed, which Loki had clearly just risen from. “I am not as stupid as you like to believe. Why did you really re-arrange your schedule? Why have you been avoiding everyone — even Mother? Why did you disappear from the practice field this afternoon? Why have you been hiding in your room all day? — you missed a state dinner, by the way, and Father is Not Happy. And _why_ , for the love of all that’s holy, did you tell Mother to fire Sigyn?”  
“Ymir’s Beard! What makes you think I have anything to do with how Frigga runs her household?”  
“Ha! I was right!”  
“Oh fuck a cow! You were just guessing. Why can’t you be a stupid idiot like Balder?”  
“Because I am going to be king, and Balder is just going to be bait for a lovely political marriage, which I am sure Father has already started to negotiate.”  
“Has he really?” Loki smirked, always eager for a bit of gossip. “What do you know?”  
“Nothing — I was joking, you gullible moron.”  
“I hate you.”  
“No, you don’t.”  
“I will admit nothing.”  
“I still want to know what’s going on.”  
Instead of answering, Loki just walked back across the room and flopped down on the bed once more.  
“Loki.”  
Loki covered his face with an arm. “Go away.”  
Thor sat down on the bed next to him. “You like her. I saw you in the library with her. And I know she was in charge of your healing.”  
Two arms. “Go. Away.”  
Thor waited for several heartbeats before he continued, “Why did you ask Mother to fire her?”  
An eye peeked out from between the two arms and examined Thor suspiciously. “It’s complicated.”  
“What are you going to do?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Don’t be an idiot.”  
“What should I do? It’s not like I can marry her,” and he grumbled something about mystery alien peasants.  
“Ohhhh. So you more than just like her.”  
“Ahh, dammit, Thor, will you stop it!”  
There was a long pause, before Thor prodded once more figuratively and literally, as he jabbed at Loki’s ribs. “Does she know? Hel with that, of course she does— does Mother know?”  
“Ouch!” Loki twisted away, but finally brought his arms away from his face. “Freya’s tits, I hope not.”  
Thor frowned. “Odin would blast you right into Niflheim.”  
“I realize that Sigyn would not be his first choice.”  
“Mother likes her, though.”  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
Thor sat quietly next to Loki on the bed for a very long time, and then . . .  
“I think you should elope.”  
“What?!”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a quote from John Donne's 17th Meditation. Here is a longer passage, though not the entire piece:
> 
> "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."


	12. Before -- "Show me worthy of thy sweet respect"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which we answer the question as to whether Loki is man enough to ask forgiveness, and how long it might take for him to receive it.
> 
> The action picks up precisely where the previous chapter left off -- in fact, they are still in te middle of the same conversation.

“That is the stupidest idea you have ever uttered, and trust me, you have formulated a host of nonsensical plans.”

“You love her?”

Silence.

“Is there anyone else on your list of eligible matches? Are you hoping for political position — maybe you are holding out for a princess from Vanaheim?”

“Don’t be an idiot — no one with any political aspirations will link their daughter to a frost giant.”

“Maybe you’re looking for wealth? Is there a rich Asgardian family you’ve got picked out?”

“Thor, stop.”

“Or maybe you would prefer to collect a huge tract of land — I know! Amora once had her eye on you.”

“Oh by all that is sacred in all the nine realms — save me from a fate worse than death.”

“Well, then. Do you want to marry Sigyn?”

“It is not possible. Her parentage is wholly unknown. She has been raised without rank. She has no fortune. She is wholly unconnected. And Odin is hardly inclined to perform any favors for his monstrous embarrassment of a war trophy.”

“If it’s done right, it will be legally binding, even without his blessing. Besides, he will forgive you — you are still his son, Loki.”

“As in several centuries from now? Because that is frankly how long it would take to earn even a hearing during which to beg forgiveness — something, I hope you realize, I will never **never** do.”

“I do not think he will be so cold. Besides, Mother likes her.”

“Not that much.”

“Mother would take your part.”

“Anyway, you speak of ‘doing things right,’ but who would preside over such a ceremony? Who would negotiate the bride price and morning gift? Who would volunteer to witness the contract? And Eir, certainly, will never agree to a clandestine marriage negotiation. Everyone involved would be instantly arrested for treason. Thor, this approaches a level of naiveté that I had not suspected even of you.”

“I will negotiate the bride price. I will witness for you. And surely Sigyn has a friend who would stand by her.”

Loki scowled at his brother. “We can’t do anything unless Sigyn agrees, and what makes you think she will? I did, you will recall, get her fired from an exceedingly prestigious and lucrative position.”

“That is the last thing you have to worry about. Of course she will take you back.”

“Only after she has flayed me alive.”

******

The campaign started out small.

One morning, Sigyn awoke to a subtle perfume in the air, and found a single stalk of purple hyacinth on the table next to her bed. 

Only one person could be responsible for such a thing. She smiled in a melancholy way as she picked it up, smelled it, then she scowled. “Loki, if you think this makes up for anything, Sleipnir really does call you father!”

Into the trash it went. 

They appeared three days in a row. They landed in the trash three days in a row.

On the fourth day, in addition to the small blooms next to the bed, a dainty bouquet of hyacinths greeted her when she arrived in the healing rooms. She was just about to dump these in the trash, as well, when Eir interrupted her.

“Thank you for bringing the flowers, Sigyn,” Eir chirped at her with a smile. “So lovely! And they smell so sweet. They brighten the room up considerably.” 

Sigyn scowled as she placed them back on the counter. Grabbing her supplies, she quickly ducked out of the room and stalked off to the practice field. 

This, too, went on for several days -- fresh nosegays appeared daily, both in her room and in the medicine rooms.

After a week, Sigyn nearly forgot to get mad . . . until, that is, she arrived at the field tent where she was greeted not by a single nosegay, but by multiple bundles of purple hyacinths. Everywhere. Little bouquets lay on every flat surface. Her cheeks burned. “No!” she hissed under her breath. “Not here! What are you playing at, you son of a goat!”

She gathered as many as she could, tossing them in a pile behind the tent, hoping fervently that no one would see. She got halfway through before the entire situation began to feel absurd. As her crew arrived, they found her sitting on a cot with a bundle of flowers, punchy, giggle-snorting to herself. 

“What’s all this?” Sven asked — the youngest of the group.

Mild panic set in. _Deflect. Deflect. Deflect._

“Does one of you have a sweetheart?” Sigyn parried. “Someone’s pulled a monumental prank.” She looked about for a target, eyes falling quickly on a pretty, flirtatious apprentice. “Isobel?”

The young girl blushed. “I’m sure I don’t know anyone who would do something like _this_.”

“Perhaps a secret admirer, then. You should be careful,” Sigyn replied with a smile.

They took the bait. As a group, they gathered up the remaining flowers, teasing Isobel, who was more than ready to believe in a mysterious lover desperate to prove his affections for her. Sigyn sighed with relief, quite pleased with herself.

When she arrived back home that night, however, her bed was strewn with flowers that multiplied as she watched until the bed was buried in them. Even as she stood there, more bouquets began to appear, strewing the floor and burying her feet. As each one appeared, she heard a whispered voice, heavy with contrition, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. . . .”

“Oh Loki . . .” Sigyn choked back a sob. She sank to the floor catching up one of the sprays, and even as she sat cross-legged among the heap, her lap filled with more flowers.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tears were rolling down her cheeks by the time, finally, Loki stepped out of the shadows, removing his invisibility cloak as he did so. “Sigyn.”

He crossed the room and knelt in front of her.

“Sigyn. I am so very sorry. I . . . ” He stopped short, the long-practiced speech lost in the firestorm of his brain. He fidgeted with his hands, and furrowed his brow as he dissected the expression on her face. Tears could mean anything from _I’ll-take-you-back_ to _I’m-so-sad-that-you-turned-out-to-be-such-an-irredeemable-bilgesnipe-don’t-ever-speak-to-me-again._

But then the impossible occurred.

She smiled.

“Oh Loki, you ass! Only you . . .!” She looked at the heaps of purple around her shaking her head. “No. It’s not entirely your fault. I should never have spoken the way I did.”

“I should not have lashed out — not after . . .” He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I just shouldn’t have. I got you fired. I disappeared. I am the monster in this tale.”

She reached out to cover his hand with her own. “Never a monster.”

“Yes.” 

As he said it, he stood once more and removed the concealing spell, standing before her in his true form — clouds of fog swirling away from his suddenly cold skin, red eyes staring out from a gray-blue face marked with swirling lines. “I am a monster.”

Then he picked up a single stalk out of the heap of flowers on her floor, encasing it in perfect crystalline ice, before kneeling before her once more and holding it out as an offering.

“I am a monster,” he repeated. “But, can you, Sigyn Outlander, _would_ you, consider marrying me anyway?”

She closed her eyes briefly, and Loki watched her porcelain skin shift slowly to a flawless copper, in contrast with which her bright hazel eyes fairly glowed when they opened once more. She captured his gaze with her own and a blindingly affectionate smile suffused her face as she answered, “Only if you, Loki Friggasson, can marry a mystery alien peasant.”

“I would have no other.”

“Then neither shall I.”

*****

There was a great deal to prepare before they could wed. Every technicality had to be taken care of so as to offer Odin no legal excuse to nullify their union. They needed a contract that stipulated a bride price, a morning gift, and a dowry. They needed ancestral weapons to be exchanged. They needed an officiant who would not be afraid of Odin’s inevitable retribution. They needed witnesses they could trust. 

Perhaps most importantly, they needed a home well away from court to which they could escape, and they needed to do all of this in absolute secrecy.

Loki, Sigyn, and Thor sat in Eir’s storage room plotting while the healer was out running errands. They had gathered under the pretense that Loki’s training had re-injured his shoulder, and Loki carefully dampened the sound so they could not be overheard.

“There is no question,” Thor offered. “I will stand as your witness, brother.”

“Anna would stand up for me,” Sigyn replied without hesitation.

Thor gave her a quizzical look. “Anna?”

“Anna is the poor wretch who dared to get in Amora’s oh-so-entitled way, and lost her position for causing the inconvenience. She is my closest friend. I trust her implicitly.”

“Excellent,” Loki replied. “I’ve copied out a standard marriage contract from the legal library, we only need to fill in the amounts. A standard bride price appears to be twice the bride’s yearly earnings. What did you earn while you were still employed at the palace?”

“Roughly 25 a year.”

“Wow.” Loki let out a huff of air. “I’m not sure I can cover 50,000 gold pieces all at once.”

“I can probably find enough to cover the difference,” Thor offered.

Sigyn’s jaw dropped during this exchange. “Wait,” she interrupted. “Stop. I said 25. I made 25 gold pieces last year if you add together both the pocket change from my regular patients and the retainer I received from Frigga’s household.”

Loki looked at her, uncomprehending at first, until his face shifted into disbelief. “No. Surely you meant 25 thousand.”

“No. Loki, I meant 25 gold pieces — and that made me far and away the highest paid healer in Asgard, Eir excepted.”

“Well, that changes things — but there is no way I am only giving Eir a measly 50 gold for your bride price.” 

Thor wordlessly rumbled his agreement with Loki.

“Suit yourself.” She replied, but she couldn’t repress a smile at their consternation.

“Do you think Eir would agree to 500? I could easily afford that.”

Now it was Sigyn’s turn to be astonished. “500? Eir would never have to work again.”

“Then we’re agreed.” 

Thor grumbled that the price should still be higher, but the number stood.

Once they finished the contract, they slowly worked through the other details. Thor and Loki would ask permission to leave court for two weeks, saying they wished to visit Loki’s own house in the country for a hunting trip — just the two of them. Loki would leave early “to air out the house and re-stock its supplies.” Thor would join him two days later, bringing Sigyn and Anna with him. 

Even after all of these details had been settled, however, Sigyn still fidgeted. “What about the blessing? Who will bless the marriage?”

Loki snorted. “Have you forgotten who you’re engaged to, dearheart? Trickster? Instigator? Trouble-maker? — I know all sorts of disreputable people. I know a man, who knows a man — ok, he’s a giant — who knows a woman — well, they say she’s a woman, anyway, and I’ve met her once or twice, as well. I am positive she will help us. At any rate, don’t worry. While you travel to meet Anna, I will seek out our matriarch.” 

Thor grumbled once more, and Sigyn was less than reassured. 

With everything else more or less settled, there was only one piece that would make the union legally binding — a weapon. Loki needed an heirloom to symbolize the union of their houses. 

_Well,_ he decided, _I will just have to find one._

“Thor, we are going to have to resort to subterfuge. Do you think yourself capable?”

*****

Thor approached the soldier who stood at the door to the weapons vault. “Friend! It has been a great while since I have seen you —”

Loki used that moment to cast an illusion that would cover his movements before ducking past the two warriors and down the stairs. Once in the vault itself, Loki looked around to seek a suitable weapon for his bride. It didn’t take long. A sword that looked like a slice right off a glacier — perfectly translucent blue. 

Laufey’s dagger.

Of course, in anyone else’s hand, it would easily serve as a sword — a meter long, at least. Odin had not destroyed it after all, but secreted it away in the vault. Another stolen treasure.

_That is rightfully mine. It was my father’s blade — ok, so he tried to kill me with it. All the more reason I should keep it._

And like that, the decision was made. He slipped it from its display, leaving an illusion in its place, pulled it under his cloak, then slipped out of the vault altogether. On his way out, he bumped Thor just hard enough to let his brother know he was done, and retreated rapidly to his rooms where Thor joined him minutes later.

Loki placed the sword on his bed and stood dumbfounded as he stared at it.

“Look what Odin had hidden down in those vaults. How many more lies will he tell me? What possible purpose could he have in concealing this? My recovery would have been weeks faster had I been able to examine the blade.”

Thor, too, stood amazed. “I cannot understand it. I would have sworn I witnessed its destruction. Are sure it is one and the same?”

“There can be no doubt. The heft of it. The coldness of the blade. The perfect absence of any seider radiating from it — like a negative space — it could be no other.”

“Well,” replied his brother, “there are none living who can claim better right to the blade than yourself. It is of your house. It is yours.”

Loki nodded.

“I must leave for the lodge immediately, before the weapon’s absence is discovered. I replaced it with an illusory copy, but it cannot remain undetected for long.”

Thor nodded. “Go. I will remain only long enough to accompany Sigyn to Anna’s house, then we will join you at your lodge.”

“Sigyn has the contract?”

“And the gold. She will leave them in Eir’s locked office before we go.”

Loki nodded once more before pulling an old sword case from under the bed. “The case hardly does the blade justice, but I suppose inconspicuous is best.”

Thor had already turned to leave when Loki caught his arm. “Wait! You must carry Sigyn’s morning gift.” Loki handed him a box, and a smile broke over his brother’s face when he peeked inside: a necklace of deep, clear emeralds, and a ring set with another large stone flanked by two smaller rubies.

Thor clapped his brother on the shoulder. “It suits!” Then he strode out of room to meet his future sister-in-law.

When Thor arrived, Sigyn was already prepared — a large pack full of clothes and saddle bags full of herbs and other personal belongings. They waited only for dusk to deepen into full dark before they made their way to the stables, and then overland to Anna’s village. Speed was now their greatest ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole the chapter title from Shakespeare Sonnet 26:
> 
> Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage  
> Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,  
> To thee I send this written embassage,  
> To witness duty, not to show my wit:  
> Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine  
> May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,  
> But that I hope some good conceit of thine  
> In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;  
> Till whatsoever star that guides my moving  
> Points on me graciously with fair aspect  
> And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,  
> To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:  
> Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;  
> Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.


	13. Before -- “If ever any beauty I did see, / Which I desired, and got, twas but a dream of thee.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which we discover whether Loki and Sigyn finally get hitched, and what sort of hitched they get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note #1: Elli shows up in a Norse saga as the goddess of old age, who challenges Thor to a wrestling match and brings him down on one knee. Yup--Thor got beat by an old lady. (snerk)  
> Note #2: According to some sources, honeysuckle is one of the flowers traditionally associated with Sigyn, as is blue hepatica with Loki.  
> Note #3: In the same story in which Thor gets whooped by an old lady, Loki loses an eating contest with a stone giant named Logi, who (it turns out) is the personification of fire.

Loki watched his steps carefully as he navigated through the alpine forest. _That rock there, yes. . . . This turning here. . . . Between those standing stones._

And there it was — a large stone house, the doorway four meters high, at least, a well-kept bed of flowers in front, an over-sized rocker on the porch.

“You’re smaller than I remembered.”

Loki frowned as he looked up into the ancient face of a giantess who had come up from behind him. “And you, Elli, are exactly as old as I remembered.”

“Ha! Flattery will get you no favors here, Silvertongue.” She smirked down at him as she pulled back her hood and combed her bony fingers through her silver locks to smooth them down. “Are you hungry? I suppose that’s the polite thing to do — offer refreshment to weary travelers.” She eyed him up and down with careful scrutiny. “It seems you have traveled quite a way.” 

“I have, and would be grateful for something _very_ small, thank you.” His voice might have sounded a tiny bit grumpy.

The giant cackled at his answer. “You didn’t care for my offering last time?”

He cracked a smile at last. “I do not think I need a trencher that quite reaches the end of the table. Something smaller will do. I don’t wish to impose on you for very long.” 

“Get a bit of indigestion, did you? We’ll call it even, then,” she fired back at him. “For now.”

“It was just a bit of fun,” he mumbled under his breath with a smirk, and she laughed as she headed toward her front gate. Loki followed, in a conspicuously deferential way.

Once inside, she hung their cloaks on wooden pegs just inside the door. “Make yourself comfortable, friend. I am sorry I have nothing quite tailored for one your size.”

She was still smiling to herself as Loki took a seat at the enormous kitchen table while the crone busied herself at the hearth.

“You enjoy this just a bit more than you should, Elli.”

“I don’t often get visitors from Asgard’s court. I need to squeeze every bit of fun out of your exalted presence while I can.” But though her words could have sounded bitter, her eyes twinkled warmly, and true to her word, the food she set on the board was just a light snack of honest food — strong mountain grown coffee and brown bread with butter. She clapped him on the shoulder affectionately as she moved to sit opposite. 

Once she settled, her eyes roved over his face once more, narrowing as she took his measure. Her eyes were startlingly bright for one who otherwise appeared so ancient — such a bright blue they almost seemed backlit. 

Suddenly she brought the flat of her hand down on the tabletop with a smack and came directly to the point. “Right. What are you after, Sneakthief? All of the treasures are up at the big house. No one comes here without a fight, unless they’re on some stupid-ass quest, or they’ve lost a bet. Who did you lose to this time?”

Loki smirked. “I haven’t lost — yet — and as I searched my brain for anyone whose unique gifts could best ensure I didn’t lose, you were at the top of my list.”

“I already told you I will not be flattered into anything, sweetlips. Spit it out. What do you want. I don’t do loans; you know that.”

“I don’t need a thing. I need you.”

“You need a favor!?!” Elli stood up and placed the kettle back near the fire, then prodded the flames a bit. She laughed derisively and spoke without facing him. “I will only do a favor for one of Odin’s sons when Thor can best me in a wrestling match.”

Loki smiled slowly and cocked his head. “Come now, Elli, we both know that I am no son of Odin.”

She turned to address him directly at that, a smirk once more pulling at the corner of her mouth. “No. You are not, are you, Little Giant? I’ve kept my eye on you for many, many years. I wondered when Odin’s little lies would come back to bite him in ass. What sort of mischief are you up to?”

“I plan to cause Odin a good deal of trouble — or at least a bit of heartburn.”

“Oh ho! I might be able to find time for you if it sticks a feather up the old goat’s nose.”

“Do you think, then, that I might bring a few guests to your humble abode two days from now? I am planning a wedding.”

She cackled gleefully and clapped her large hands together. “Oh! My handsome troublemaker, I believe that under those circumstances I might even sweep the front steps.” 

True to her word, Elli greeted the little wedding party with a broad smile when they arrived two days later, laden with gifts for the matriarch who would preside over the ceremony. And she had indeed swept the porch, gone so far, in fact, as to brighten things up with garlands of honeysuckle and hepatica — white and blue and fragrant.

The four of them dismounted and began to unburden the horses, when two more giants emerged from the house. Thor’s hand quickly moved to his hammer; however, Elli just chuckled. “Rest your arm, Odinson, these are my cousins come to serve as witness should your father try to undo the bonds we forge today. Don’t fret, there will still be plenty to eat at the feast.”

Despite the reassurance, Thor’s brow remained tense, and as he turned to his brother, his jaw remained clenched. He still looked ready for a fight as he hissed through clenched teeth, “Loki. You said ‘woman,’ not ‘stone giant,’ and you certainly didn’t mention any other guests. How can this be safe? How can we trust their secrecy?”

“Thor, have you forgotten already what I am? Trust them as you would trust me — guardedly.” Loki smirked at his brother’s sudden blush. “As long as you leave Mjonir on your belt, we are safe. Besides, we will not be able to keep this a secret for long, anyway. And when you think about it, is their presence not appropriate given my heritage? All they lack is a bit of cold.”

Thor nodded, but his face still showed his discomfort as he turned once more to his horse.

Sigyn approached the matriarch carrying bundles filled with gifts. “It is not as much as I would like — we had so little time. But I made up boxes of remedies I thought you would find useful, along with a few other things. They cannot possibly be enough to repay you, but please accept them as tokens, at least, of my gratitude and respect.”

Elli leaned down to accept the packages with surprising affection. “Little one, your thoughtfulness does you credit, and such grace surely will be rewarded when you are in your greatest need.” The giantess lifted Sigyn’s chin with one of her enormous fingers and scanned her face with both tenderness and melancholy. “Yes,” Elli said, almost to herself. “You are worth the risk — worth all of it.” Then she turned away to hand the gifts to her cousin to take into the house, leaving Sigyn to wonder at her words.

Anna hung back, feeling small and unsure of her place in the face of beings she had only heard of in stories as a little girl. Her eyes wide, she fidgeted with the box in her arms as she tried to comprehend what she looked at. Elli stood nearly three meters high, while her cousins topped her by another 10 centimeters easily — all dressed in stone grey and lichen green to match the mountains around them. She startled when Thor took her by the elbow to lead her to the porch steps.

“We will hold the ceremony here, at the base of the steps,” Elli declared, then turned to her cousins. “Logi, you must hold the cup. Stand here. Hugi, you must hold the branch, right next to him.” She turned toward the couples. “Come here, lovebirds. You must stand right here with your witnesses just behind you.”

When she had everyone arranged to her satisfaction, she removed her old stained grey cloak and hung it over the porch rail, revealing a soft pearl-grey gown beneath, then she returned to her post in front of the house and closed her eyes for half a minute. 

As she settled herself in mental preparation, she seemed to transform into an entirely different being. She drew herself up to her full height, silver hair cascading over strong shoulders, down the soft grey fabric of her dress. She radiated strength, self-assurance, and calm, generous authority. Her silver eyes seemed magnetic, drawing everyone’s attention and holding them there.

She took a deep breath and spread her hands wide in front of her. “We are here to witness the joining together of two houses.” She looked back and forth between Loki and Sigyn before she continued in a careful, deliberate tone. “But in this case, it is more complicated than that, is it not? Loki, of what house shall we name you? Cast out and cursed by one, adopted and belittled by another. Odinson, Laufeyson, Friggasson, Silvertongue, Liesmith, Trickster, Wanderer – you are of no house and of every house. 

“Sigyn Outlander, your very name signals your disconnectedness. You are the last of your house, adopted by another and stifled there — closed into a box that cannot begin to contain you.”

Thor began to once more to bristle at Elli’s words but she answered his grumbling with a stern look. “You may not wish to see what has happened, Odinson, but that does not make it any less true. Few of your house or race have taken your brother and his wife into their hearts. You do no one any favors by denying it.”

He dropped his eyes, unable to hold her gaze for long, balling and unballing his fists.

Elli returned her attention to the couple. “What you create here is greater than what you bring to construct it. You are your own house, and those who ally themselves to you will know the meaning of loyalty, will know what binds us, one to another, and know what keeps our lives vibrant and worth living — for you are full of life.”

She raised her right hand and gestured for Thor to open the weapons case he carried.

He stepped forward, and Loki carefully lifted Laufey’s dagger from the box, then handed the weapon to Sigyn, hilt first, saying, “From my house to your house, because they are the same.”

Sigyn took it and sheathed it in the scabbard she wore at her side, then bowed deeply, first to Loki, and then to Thor. The giant’s dagger was large enough that it nearly brushed the ground next to her side.

Elli then motioned with her left hand for Anna to step forward. 

Sigyn turned to lift her mother’s bright silver dagger out of the case Anna held open for her. Placing the hilt in Loki’s hand she repeated, “Here is all I have left of my mother. From my house to your house, because they are the same.”

Once Loki sheathed the dagger, he also bowed to Sigyn and then to Anna. 

The crone took their hands at this point, clasped them together, and lowered her head as she mumbled a blessing in some language neither of them could place, despite all of their learning. Her voice sounded like the slow movement of stones as they are ground together, or rolled down a path.

When she stepped back, she turned to Logi and took up the chalice of mead they had poured earlier. She drank, then handed it around the wedding party. After everyone had partaken, she took the branch freshly cut fir branch from Hugi and moved to dip it in the cup, but then halted. Turning to Thor, she said, “Perhaps you would be better suited to this particular blessing.”

A long, heavy pause ensued before Thor finally nodded his head in acquiescence. Taking up the branch, he dipped it in the mead, stepped back a three paces, and swished the branch through the air in the sign of his hammer. As the drops few through the air, they shimmered slightly with the blessing he had whispered, touching each participant with little fireflies of warmth that tingled for a moment and then disappeared. 

The crone took the branch from him once more and bowed deeply with her thanks before turning back to face the couple. Drawing near, she engulfed their hands in hers. Her skin felt soft and papery thin, and they could feel her bones beneath the flesh along with the strength of her life force. She bent herself down to their level, and caught them in the deep wells of her eyes. She held each of their gazes in turn, as if to weigh her words precisely before she gave them away. 

She addressed them with a soft, confidential tone. “Loki, do not allow your bitterness to mistake rigidness for lack of wisdom — Odin _is_ wise, and he paid a great price for that wisdom. His wisdom is the wisdom of order and of power. 

“You are also wise, but yours is the wisdom of chaos. You are a disturbance, a disruption from the margins. And though few see it, your wisdom is just as important as Odin’s, because there can be no renewal, no rebirth without disruption. Order unchecked leads only to stagnation, just as power unchallenged leads always to tyranny. Yet, I suspect you also know, that just as Odin suffered for his knowledge, you also will pay a great price, because you will receive no thanks for serving as the catalyst for change. Your lives will be fraught with betrayal, pain, and separation — there is no way to avoid it.

“Sigyn the Fierce,” and here Elli smiled affectionately, “you are . . . well, you are something else entirely, are you not? Not Aesir. Not mortal. Not giant. Not elf. You are a mystery. You are undefinable — that is your greatest strength. I do not know what part you will play in these great changes, but I know you are well matched.” Elli’s eyes moved between the pair of them. “Your attachment to one another is unshakeable. May the Norns themselves take pity on you as you are tested. May the great tree of life sustain you through your troubles.”

She tilted Loki’s head up with a finger to kiss his forehead, and repeated the gesture with Sigyn, before stepping back to bow to Thor once more. As she straightened, a great flash of light enveloped them along with a sound like boulders crashing down a mountainside, and when they could see once more, they found themselves outside Loki’s house.

The wedding party remained utterly silent in her wake, trading nervous glances, before Thor finally shook off their somber mood. “Congratulations! Loki — steal your first kiss, and then we shall celebrate!”

Loki scooped up his bride, smacked her on the lips and then ran up the steps to carry her over the threshold of his lodge, careful to avoid stumbling. Once inside, however, he went rigid. 

“Balder! What are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole the title for this chapter from one of my favorite love poems:
> 
> The Good-Morrow  
> by John Donne
> 
> I wonder by my troth, what thou and I  
> Did, till we loved? Were we not wean’d till then?   
> But suck’d on country pleasures, childishly?   
> Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?  
> ‘Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;  
> If ever any beauty I did see,   
> Which I desired, and got, ‘twas but a dream of thee.
> 
> And now good-morrow to our waking souls,   
> Which watch not one another out of fear;  
> For love all love of other sights controls,  
> And makes one little room an everywhere.  
> Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;  
> Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;  
> Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one. 
> 
> My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,   
> And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;  
> Where can we find two better hemispheres   
> Without sharp north, without declining west?  
> Whatever dies, was not mix’d equally;  
> If our two loves be one, or thou and I   
> Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.


	14. "My brother mocks both you and me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out the consequences for getting married without royal sanction.

“Loki!” Balder whirled around from where he’d been facing the fireplace, an enormous smile on his face. “Surprised?”

“Surprise is one word for it.”

He moved out of the doorway to set Sigyn down, and heard Thor crowd the doorway behind him.

“Balder?” Thor was just as surprised as Loki.

“Thor!” Balder strode across the floor to greet his eldest brother with a backslapping hug. “Amora said I could find you here!”

“ _Amora_ said?” Loki’s voice was tight, and he could feel the waves of fury rolling off Sigyn. _This could get very bad, very fast._

“Yes! She said that I must have misunderstood, that you would never go out on a hunt without me, and she said that I should just meet you out here. And here I am!”

Balder’s guileless, clueless smile lit up his entire face — he was completely pleased with himself. “But now I see this must have been a hunting party of an entirely different sort. Thor, I am a bit surprised at you for letting Loki talk you into telling tales to father in order to follow such pursuits.”

A mug that had been left on the table after breakfast suddenly shattered, scattering crockery everywhere. Everyone but Balder cast worried look in Sigyn’s direction, and Anna interrupted with slightly desperate tones, “Sigyn! Maybe you and I should wait outside while the princes sort this out, yes?”

Sigyn glared at everyone in general, and Loki last of all, before stalking out of the house and down a trail into the woods. Anna dropped a quick curtsy and smiled nervously, “we’ll be back in just a bit,” then she dashed out the door after her.

Once the door closed, Thor attempted redirecting Balder, “Brother, we are not out here to enjoy, as you say, ‘other pursuits.’”

Balder laughed, “I fail to see what other explanation you might put on it — I can’t see how this could possibly be a simple hunting trip. Loki, I know you are used to manipulating young women into your bed — your kind are prone to baser urges, I realize — but you must attempt to control yourself. You were raised to better standards. And Thor, you should not allow yourself to be influenced by his smooth persuasions — you are the crown prince and must set a proper example of Aesir morality. I’m sure Loki rationalized it in a such a way as to make it appear as though there could be no taint, but those two girls are clearly good Aesir girls. If you mean to have some play, you should look to women who are already prone to such heats.”

Loki roared in outrage, and with lightning speed, Thor swooped in between his two brothers, picking up the former and carrying him several feet away from their youngest sibling, while Balder recoiled in shock.

“Loki?!? I’m amazed. How have I made you angry?”

“How have you . . .? Aaaarrrgh!” Loki pushed against Thor trying to get at Balder as his anger rendered him all but incoherent.

“Stop! Loki! This isn’t helping!” Thor kept a firm grip, feet planted wide, arms wrapped entirely around Loki’s, pinning his brother’s limbs to his side and straining to keep him from rushing across the room. They remained like that for several moments, Balder wisely deciding to keep his thoughts to himself while Thor tried to keep Loki still. Finally, Loki’s struggles slowed to the point where Thor felt he could ease his grip. He let go and turned to face his youngest brother.

“Balder,” Thor finally began, “you cannot imagine how poor your timing is today.”

“I still cannot understand the source of your anger, Loki,” Balder responded. “I truly thought you were different than the rest of your kind.”

“Thor,” Loki spoke between clenched teeth, “I think perhaps you should explain to Balder why we are here, because if I attempt to address him directly, I believe I shall feed his own intestines to him for supper.”

Thor took a deep breath as he looked intently between the burning green eyes of one sibling and the wide-eyed, self-righteous blue of the other. “Balder, will you come into the kitchen and sit? Perhaps we can manage a civil conversation if there is a table between you.”

Balder nodded, and led the other two into the great kitchen at the back of the house.

Once they were seated, Balder looked expectantly at his eldest brother. Thor glanced at Loki for permission, and Loki waved his hand in exasperation before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Thor cleared his throat. “Balder, did you not recognize either of the women we walked in with?”

“No. Should I have?”

Thor scrubbed his face before he continued. “The taller one? With the curly hair? That is Sigyn.”

“Sigyn? Should I know her?”

Thor huffed in exasperation. “Sigyn. Eir’s journeyman. She was mother’s physician?”

“Oh! Blast me! She’s the one who broke my fingers! I should have known she was not to be trusted . . . Amora said she not only lacked proper respect, but was a foreigner, as well as a charity case — and you know that kind just aren’t as trustworthy — always looking for handouts and never grateful for what they have — but Mother insisted she stay on. Oh Loki, Mother will be furious when she discovers you have fallen prey to the wiles of someone like her, even if the girl was under Mother’s protection — it makes it ten times worse that she is an outlander like yourself.”

“Balder!” Thor quickly interrupted. “Shut up before you get your skull smashed into the mantelpiece,” something which Loki looked entirely ready to do. “Sigyn and Loki have a contract.”

Balder furrowed his brows in confusion.

Thor took a deep breath and continued, “They have a contract and are now wed. Sigyn’s friend and I bore witness. We have only just now returned from the ceremony.”

“That’s not possible!” came Balder’s dismissive reply. “She’s nobody! You will never receive Father’s blessing. She is completely unconnected. She’s a peasant! This is a sham — it cannot be legal. And the poor girl! Loki — no one will marry her now. You have ruined her.”

“BALDER!” Loki’s voice cut through Balder’s rambling rebuke, slamming his fists on the table. “Stop talking!”

Balder blinked in the face of Loki’s fury.

Loki strained to deliver his next words quietly, “Keep your pretty mouth closed for just a few minutes and listen carefully. Sigyn and I are, indeed, married. We have covered every legal responsibility. We drafted a contract. We paid the bride price. We received blessing from one with the authority to do so. We have exchanged weapons and pledged ourselves, one to the other. She is my wife. I am her husband. Until death do us part. Regardless of whatever consequences we may face as a result of _your_ father’s wrath. It is legal and binding. If you insist on questioning either the legality of our bonds, or the worthiness of my bride, or the quality of my breeding, I request that you leave my house. Immediately.”

Balder’s sat in stunned silence, mouth hanging open as he looked to Thor for confirmation, who nodded.

“You know I will have to go back and tell Father.”

Loki fell back in his chair once more and closed his eyes in exasperation, mumbling to himself, “Of course you will.”

Once Balder had finally gone, Loki turned to Thor. “How long do you think we have before the soldiers come to haul us back to court?”

A scant week later, early in the morning, the couple sat in Loki’s rooms at the palace, waiting for their escort. Eventually, a pair of palace guards knocked loudly at their door. Loki, arrayed in court armor, stood tall, rigid, and imposing. Sigyn, dressed in a simple, dignified gown held his hand and offered the guard a withering stare.

“Your highness,” the guard bowed his head curtly, “we have come to escort you to the throne room.” The couple began to step forward, but were interrupted. “I’m sorry, your highness, but the lady is to remain here.”

“That is not acceptable. She is my wife.”

“I was told specifically that I was to bring only yourself, sir. The lady is to not permitted to accompany you.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Told by whom?”

“The Allfather, your highness.”

Loki felt Sigyn’s hand crush his own with her suppressed rage, and he turned to her in an attempt to soothe her. “I can’t imagine this will take long. I am sure he has already decided what to do with us. Your presence will not change anything.”

“It is another mark of his disrespect for both of us. I am not even worthy of hearing my punishment pronounced by his own lips, but must hear it second hand, and you are insulted by his refusal to dignify your wife by acknowledging her. I have no illusions about this snub.”

Loki squeezed her hand. “I will return soon.”

She nodded sharply, and shot a parting glare at the guard. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Sigyn slammed the door hard enough to rattled the planters in the hallway, and Loki left to be told their fate.

At his arrival, he noticed that nearly all of the court were present, arranged by rank, of course. Very orderly. Frigga sat at her husband’s right, Thor and Balder stood a step below the thrones to Odin’s right and left, respectively.

Loki came to a halt beneath the dais and stood with as much dignity as he could muster, back straight, head high, expression stoic.

Odin let him stand for a minute without speaking. Then he nodded to himself when he deemed the proper amount of time had passed. When he rose, the entire court rose with him.

“Loki, you have for many years flouted the rules in as many subtle ways as you could; your latest prank, however, cannot go unremarked. As a prince of the realm it is your duty to marry only where your king sees fit. Your life belongs to nation, not to yourself. It is the order of things. You have chosen your own selfish interests over those of Asgard, your ruler, and of your father.” And here he paused, as if to give Loki a chance to disrupt the proceedings with a contradiction. He did not, and so the Allfather continued, “Not only have you thoughtlessly pursued your own whims, you have allied yourself to one wholly unsuitable. It is a match utterly without dignity.”

Loki’s jaw clenched tight as he listened to these insults, and even a few listeners squirmed at the harshness of Odin’s assessment. Thor was visibly uncomfortable, even Frigga appeared tense, though she remained silent. Only Balder seemed relaxed — smug even — and Loki’s fists itched with the urge to smash the look from his face.

After a brief pause, Odin continued, “Loki, for your irresponsible actions, we banish you from court for 50 years. If you remain loyal and serve us well, then we will consider allowing you to return. You will be permitted the use of a housekeeper and a sturdy man of all trades, but you will bear the cost of all household expenses. We will grant you only a stipend for clothing, as you will still serve the court even in your absence, and I would have you uphold your appearance.”

He paused here, and Loki took the opportunity to ask coldly, “In what capacity will I be expected to serve?”

“You will act as my representative to the courts of the stone giants in Utgard and the dwarves in Nifleheim. Based on recent events, this seems like an imminently appropriate assignment.”

A brief murmur swelled around the courtroom at this announcement before Odin continued. “In addition to your own banishment from the royal court, you must further know that Sigyn’s banishment from court is permanent. Your marriage, given its clandestine nature, does not grant her the rank appropriate for court attendance whatever you or she might have assumed. Her ancestry is wholly unknown. Her upbringing is utterly mundane. Her behavior, unpredictable, at best. Noble status will be granted to neither her nor her offspring.”

A tiny snort could be heard from the side of the room and Loki’s head swept the room until his eyes landed on Amora. She smirked back at him, and his eyes glittered dangerously.

Odin’s voice thundered in the courtroom, as he gave his final pronouncement, “I will grant you one week to gather your things and leave. That is all.”

“But father,” Thor began, “I should bear part of Loki’s punishment. I urged him on as he planned. I bore witness to their contract.”

“No.” Odin’s answer was swift and unequivocal. “I know all too well the persuasive power of Loki’s silver tongue. I have no doubt but that you were misled — manipulated into this action. Loki bears sole blame for this charade.”

Odin punctuated his remark by slamming Gungir’s shaft into the marble floor. He exited even as the echo rang back from the walls, leaving Loki impotently grinding his teeth before turning on his heel to stalk back to his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Richard III (3.1) by Shakespeare


	15. After -- "Bare Ruin'd Choirs"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the author begins in the future, then brazenly leaps backwards and attempts to cover 30 years of exile in the past. The action here begins a few months after the seider lessons of chapter 10.

Sigyn sighed as she shifted onto her side under the covers. “Mmmmmmm . . . you certainly have surrounded yourself with plenty of creature comforts for such a bitter old man.”

Loki chuckled and chased her warmth, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close once more. “Well I’ve mellowed a bit in the last 100 years while I waited for you to come back to me. No sense in brooding AND sleeping in scratchy sheets. You have to pick your battles.”

She snorted and snuggled up against him, savoring the little world they had constructed for themselves over their winter together. She buried herself in the covers, keeping her eyes closed tight. “This winter has felt like the honeymoon we never had. It only took us a couple hundred years to get it.”

Loki just hummed in agreement, too comfortable to do anything more.

After long minutes cocooned in their nest, Sigyn broke the silence once more, this time a bit more somberly, “What if Balder hadn’t ambushed us right after the wedding? If we’d had some time? Do you think it would ever have been possible to reconcile with Odin?”

Loki let out a breath of his own. “I think there was no path to reconciliation as long as Amora had any influence at all. She had already charmed him completely — he was always a sucker for blond hair and blue eyes, and she could be quite ingratiating when she felt it was to her advantage. As long as she got what she wanted.”

“Funny how I never saw that part of her.”

“Yes, well, you were the mystery alien peasant, and you embarrassed her in front of Balder, who was her primary target at the time. She never forgets a slight.”

Sigyn twisted around in his arms until they faced one another. “So what did you that got so far up in her underwear?”

“What did I do? Ha! What didn’t I do? The very day she arrived at court she made it clear that she had picked me out as likely husband material. She knew I worked with seider and she thought that we would bond over our shared interests.”

“And you disagreed?”

“It was pretty clear to me that her primary goal was to make sure she never got sent home to her father’s backwater estate.” Loki shrugged. “I made it clear I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh, such a cold-hearted young man you were!” Sigyn laughed.

“Amora does not take rejection well.”

Sigyn ran her fingers through his hair. “Poor boy! How long did it take until she moved her attentions elsewhere?”

“Weeks!”

“Awww!”

“It felt like years. She was insufferable.”

“How did you finally convince her to leave you alone?”

“I believe there was a cup of wine and a white dress involved.”

“Oh no!”

“And there may have been a couple of witnesses.”

“A couple?” Sigyn’s smile reached from her chin to her eyebrows by this point.

“A few dozen. Maybe. No more than that.”

Sigyn laughed out loud. “Oh dearest! In public? You’re lucky she let you out of the room in one piece.”

“It really was no time for subtlety.”

Suddenly the bright sound of a little bell drifted up from the first floor, and their smiles disappeared. Loki went instantly on the alert, whispering as he gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

“That’s one of my alarms. Someone must be out by the temple.”

“What?” She suddenly shook the sleep out of her head, and shifted the covers to get out of bed.

Loki held her in place. “Don’t go to the window, not unless you’re cloaked.”

Sigyn nodded, and stayed well away from the window. She pulled her clothes on, while Loki approached the window under an invisibility spell.

“Can you see them?” Sigyn whispered from a dark space of the room.

“No, but I can see footprints. Whoever it is, they’re making no attempt at secrecy.”

“Shall we go downstairs, then? Make sure the windows are secure?”

Loki nodded, but as they were on their way down the stairs, a heavy knocking came at the door. As he went over to answer, Sigyn readied a throwing knife and took a post on the other side of the kitchen table.

“Hello?” came a rough, feminine voice from outside. “Are you home, or am I going to have to traipse all over that wreck of a cathedral to find you?”

Sigyn’s mouth gaped open. “That’s Elsbeth!”

Loki’s mouth set itself in a tense line, however. “It sounds like Elsbeth — that doesn’t mean it is.”

Sigyn nodded.

The visitor pounded on the door again. “I heard that! Stella! Are you in there? I’ve been worried sick all winter. Could you not manage to send a message?”

Sigyn blushed. “Open the door, Loki. Surely, we’re prepared for the worst.”

His face indicated that he was less sure of this fact than his wife, but he moved to open the door anyway.

As she walked in, Sigyn’s shoulders momentarily relaxed, before they once again tensed with mistrust. “You aren’t Elsbeth! Drop the illusion. Who are you?”

Loki instantly crowded behind the old woman, but the elderly woman just laughed, doubling over, in fact, with amusement for minutes at a time before she straightened once more and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Oh little one! You’ve found yourself once more — along with all that fire within! Loki, I’m pleased you’ve managed to bring her back.”

“Who are you?” Loki raised a hand ready to throw a spell as he spoke, and Sigyn hefted the dagger once more.

“Put the weapon down, Sigyn. I cannot shift entirely in this tiny little house.” When she spoke, though, Elsbeth closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were no longer a dull blue-grey, but brilliant silver.

“Elli!” Sigyn quickly sheathed her weapon and rushed to wrap the old woman in her arms.

“Elli?!” Loki was less pleased than his bride. “Elli!?! You stone-cold, lying tit of an old woman! You took her! You hid her from me for an entire year! You put her life at risk by letting her travel with those criminal bastards! How dare you come into my house, in this way, after what you’ve done!”

Elli broke away from Sigyn and faced him with a scowl. “How would you prefer I enter? Should I have gone to the front door, instead? Perhaps I should have waited for you to issue a formal invitation? Or walked in backwards? Don’t be ridiculous, Little Giant! She wasn’t ready. And that’s all the explanation you’ll get.”

“Not ready? Not ready for what? She is my wife! Do you think I know not how to protect her?”

“I think you would have moved too fast — how long did you wait before you tricked her into walking into that temple, trying to prod open her brain and bring her back? She needed to heal. Even now there is still a smoldering pit in her heart that could take all of us with her to Valhalla. You might have waited for 100 years to get her back, but that doesn’t mean you’ve learned any patience.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is it here that really needs to learn control? If you trip the chemical reaction too soon, you will get consumed in the metamorphosis.”

Loki clenched his jaw and balled up his fists, but he kept his mouth shut. For once.

“Now then, little one, what have you done to prepare yourself?”

They moved into the living room, and Loki sat silently while Sigyn explained how they had spent their winter. He picked at his nails, worried at his cuticles, and kept his eyes on the floor. He had at least learned that much — it does one no good at all to interrupt a stone giant once she’s decided what she wants. Elli had the patience of, well, a stone, and the knowledge that came only to one whose roots were mountain deep. He bit back his own impatience while the two women talked.

Once Sigyn finished her tale, Elli turned to Loki. “What were you able to salvage after Thor let you out of that cage?”

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not much. A few things had been confiscated by Odin prior to the trial — our wedding presents, Sigyn’s letters, a few gifts from the dwarves and Skrymir. Odin was convinced that I had collaborated with them and that the jewels were enchanted somehow.”

“Well, they were,” Sigyn snorted.

Loki’s eyes crinkled. “Just not the way he thought.”

Elli’s mouth curled up at the edges. “Surprisingly enough, one or two of those trinkets might actually come in handy.”

The eyebrows on both her listeners rose at that.

“And you will certainly need your wedding presents. Don’t you remember what that stupid dagger of your father’s does?”

The pair exchanged a look that spoke volumes — _how could we possibly have forgotten that?_

Elli cleared her throat and rose from her chair. “Shall we go take a look?”

Loki had stashed his memories away in an old trunk at the foot of his bed, locked tight and protected by wards. He pulled out each item and laid them carefully — reverently almost — on the bedcovers: a pair of gold and emerald rings, a necklace wrought like golden ivy set with emerald dewdrops, the two weapons cases, and a stack of papers tied with a faded green ribbon. Sigyn’s eyes went directly to the papers, reaching for them as soon as she realized what they were.

“You kept them. All of them?”

“Every one.”

“Where are yours?”

“They were all burnt away.”

“Gone?” she asked in a nearly inaudible voice.

“All of them. Everything that was in those rooms is gone.”

She winced. “I don’t really remember that part very clearly.”

“I’m not surprised,” came Elli’s flat interjection.

Sigyn forced a smile and looked over at Loki. “I remember those first few trips when I was still permitted to go on those diplomatic missions with you — it was fun. I remember sitting with Skrymir’s wife during her third pregnancy, and playing with her baby the next year.”

He smiled. “You spent your entire time in Niflheim tending to asthmatic dwarves!”

“They all had asbestosis from the talcum mines. It was very sad.” She made a face at him before she continued, “I remember your anger when you discovered Hugin would be accompanying us to Utgard the next year, instead of Thor!”

Loki snorted. “Ha! Do you remember what Skrymir said? ‘Who is it, Little Giant, that Odin does not trust, that he sends his corvid spy?’” His voice lowered to a perfect imitation of the giant’s.

Sigyn laughed, “I remember your reply well enough — ‘I suspect that he trusts neither of us.’ — I’m sure that went straight to the Allfather’s ear.”

“Exactly why I said it.”

“That was the trip when Skrymir sent home Fenryr with us.”

“I remember. He said that you needed protection so far away from the royal court.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong, though Fenryr could never have protected us against the real threat.”

She paused here once more and ran a thumb over the smooth papers in the neat little stack.

“Are these all of them?”

“Every letter you sent while I was away in either Utgard or Niflheim,” and then his gaze became evasive, “maybe one or two others.”

Sigyn sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor, untying the ribbon as she did so.

“Sigyn — you really don’t want to do that, do you?”

She didn’t even hear him. She had already begun to read.

*****

Dearest Loki,   
The weather continues fine. Anna and Torvald traveled to the city and returned quickly, laden both with supplies and gossip. They had a grand time with old friends and remain in good spirits.  
 I have sent with this note the pot of ointment requested by Skrymir for his grandfather’s joints. If it works well, I can easily send more with my next letter.   
Have Hugin’s tail feathers filled back in by now? I feel a little sympathy when I think of him trying to steer through the air without a rudder, but I admit I laughed when I read what Fenryr had done — I’m sure Odin’s pet won’t try stealing my letters a second time.    
Yours always,  
 Sigyn

Dearest Loki,  
 Fenryr delivered your letter faithfully from Utgard. In his packs, you will find another pot of ointment, as well as some tea to help with the pregnancy. I am told it is again a difficult one. Tell her I also have ways to help prevent this in the future, and can send messages to her personally, if she prefers. Please give them my deepest thanks for the ring, and I cannot wait to see the mate to it on your own hand.   
Anna and Torvold are both well and send their regards. Their baby arrived with no troubles at all. We’ve had a wonderful round of visits from their families.   
There was a bit of confusion in the village, thanks to some new decrees from court. I have been obliged to purchase an “operations license” from an official appointee of the crown. The Allfather has declared that all lawful businesses must be registered, and they will not permit me to practice my healing arts unless I am issued a document stamped and signed by the so-called Minister of Commerce.  
 I shall be very glad of your company at harvest, for however long I am able to keep you here. Don’t delay any more than you must.  
 All my love,   
Sigyn

Dearest Loki,   
Please offer the dwarves my warmest thanks — pun intended — for their gift. They fitted the stove perfectly into the kitchen next to the hearth, and vented it outside. The coal is stored in a snug cellar they dug under the foundation of the house, complete with a trap door and stairs. They even set wards around the stove, so Anna’s baby wouldn’t accidentally burn herself. They are quite right — though I did not really need it to keep warm, there are times when firelight is a real comfort.  
 I am sorry to hear that your assignment to Niflheim will last so long, especially since your time at home was so short. However, it sounds as though your lodgings are quite palatial. You shall have to draw some pictures for me. You have always had a gift for it.  
 All my love,   
Sigyn

Dearest Loki,   
Thank you for the drawings — you will hardly want to come home after living in such luxury. You had best be diligent in your correspondence, or I shall begin to get jealous!   
Oh but, in all seriousness, my love, I will have to be honest and tell you how sorely I miss you. I had hoped to tell you my news in person, but it seems impossible, now that we know how long you will be away. I felt a quickening. After so many years, I had begun to think it impossible, but life always seems to find a way.   
By the time you return, you will be a father.    
All my love,   
Sigyn

Dearest Loki,  
 Do you think it would be overstepping my place if I were to write Skrymir and ask that Elli come to me? I have grown very big, but the Allfather refuses either Eir or Frigga permission to attend on me during childbirth. I am “not family,” he insists.  
 I would not ask, except I grow larger than I expected, and suspect that I carry twins. Anna fears she will not be skilled enough if there are complications.  
 All my love,  
 Sigyn

Loki,  
 Elli arrived with time to spare. I believe we have an entire week to prepare. She brought with her baby blankets as a gift from Utgard. Another gift arrived from the dwarves — a necklace to match the rings we had been given by the giants. I suspect they wanted us to remember who the ‘real’ metalsmiths are in the nine realms!   
Please also pass along my immense gratitude to the dwarves for the ingenious cradle — they say it will rock all by itself with the same rhythm as my heartbeat.  
 Sigyn

L—  
 You are a father — two fine boys, Vali and Narvi. A visitor from court came bearing gifts that only a mother would give, and stayed a day and a night before returning to the city.   
—S

Loki,   
Please give my regards to Skrymir and his lady. Thank them for the gifts they sent the boys, and tell them I do not blame them for your departure so soon to Utgard after you had returned from Niflheim.  
 The boys grow fast — I feel as though all I do is nurse! Their appetites are insatiable and so is mine. Anna says I eat enough for five.  
 I plan to return to work regularly soon. Already some folks from the village have come out to the house in search of me. Anna fills in where she can, but she never trained past apprentice.  
 I will have to lay out money for new clothes before I go back into town. The Minister of Commerce tells us that the Allfather now wants all the trades to dress in a designated uniform and color. In addition, the families must also wear the color of their parents’ business. Healers, apparently, are to wear grey.   
I gave a fund of money to a few of the seamstresses to subsidized the costs for those who could not afford a new wardrobe. I did not think you would mind the extra expense.  
 Sigyn

Loki —  
I had a lengthy discussion with the Minister of Commerce when I was in the village last week. I will spare you the details. I have given back my “business license” and now offer treatment without taking fees. As long as I don’t charge, then I am not a tradesman, right?   
There appears to be a Minister of Aesthetic Standards now, as well. He and his pinched little wife have started posting notices about “tidiness” and “standardization in signage.” My favorite apothecary closed up shop because she could no longer afford the fees.   
Sigyn

Dearest Loki,   
We celebrated the boys’ fifth name day yesterday. They squealed when they opened the presents you sent — so clever — the dwarves make the best toys! I read to them every night the stories you send — they marvel at the pictures as they shift across the pages. I never knew you had such talent, though you have always been an excellent storyteller!  
I miss your voice. Perhaps you can contrive a book that will speak with your own voice — I would lay it open on your pillows so I could listen as I went to sleep.  
 Anna took your drawings of the children with her to court so she could show them to a few friends. They were ooh’d and ah’d over, of course. The mother of a former friend sent a few small presents home for the boys. Anna was told that even the woman’s husband looked at them.  
 The Minister of Commerce was back again last week. Apparently there are merchants in town who appear to have fraudulent business licenses — his clerk cannot seem to locate any record of their purchase. I can’t imagine who would have the skill to manufacture such realistic forgeries. It is a mystery.  
 One of the boys seems to have caught a bit of a cold. Nothing that a few days in bed and some tea won’t cure, though.   
All my love,   
Sigyn

Loki —  
the Minister of Commerce came to the house and accused me of operating an unlicensed business. I keep telling him that I am collecting no fees, but this is the third time this month that he has come by. He is also now constantly accompanied by members of the royal guard, and there seem to be a number of soldiers living in town.  
 He also mentioned that the records office caught fire overnight a few days ago, destroying an entire room full of ledgers. A very curious occurrence, wouldn’t you agree?   
Narvi’s fever has gone, but the cough lingers. Vali also seems much improved, though he occasionally complains of headaches. I am certain that we have finally managed to chase away the illness.   
The boys pore over your books for hours on end. They miss you, and so do I. I am glad you will be home soon, if only for a few weeks.   
Sigyn

Dearest Loki—   
You have only been gone a week and already I miss you terribly. There is little cheer this week. The weather continues gloomy. The boys seem lethargic because of the weather. The one bright spot was Anna’s early return from court with our supplies, though it seems the mood there is little more cheerful than here. A host of new rules have been introduced in the name of efficiency and Anna tells me that staff morale is very low.    
Elli came by for a couple of days, but disappeared when the Minister of Commerce came knocking once more. The soldiers who used follow his steps have been replaced with some other kind of guards. They do not seem quite right to me — they never blink, and they walk in perfect cadence. When Elli returned she called them dolls, and spat when she said it. She said to _ask my little giant_ what they were, and then changed the subject.   
All my love,   
Sigyn

L —  
I am including with this note a list of herbs that I can no longer acquire here. Would you please seek out an apothecary from your hosts and send back a packet? See especially to those herbs for soothing an aching chest and easing heavy breathing.  The sooner the better.  
—S

Dearest — would you please write the Allmother and ask her to come to us? The boys continue ill, and Eir is forbidden to come.—S

Your Highness —  
 I write to you on behalf on my mistress. Is it possible for you to please ask permission to come home? The boys no longer wake up, and Sigyn does not sleep, nor will she speak to me.  
 Your most humble servant,    
Anna

Allmother, Queen of Asgard, Great Nurturer and hope of all, your servant Loki, once prince of the realm, finds that it is his regretful duty to be the bearer of doleful news.    
My wife and I laid our sons to rest last week in a small plot near our home. I am sorry that neither yourself nor Sigyn’s guardian of so many years were able to attend on us during their final days.   
Given the circumstances, I am sure you will understand my request that the Allfather permit me a hiatus from my duties for several months.   
Your devoted servant,  
 Loki of the Nine Realms

****************

Sigyn’s hands trembled as she finished the last letter, eyes blurry with tears. “It won’t ever get any easier, will it?”

Loki wrapped her tightly in his arms kissed her hair. Elli had already slipped silently out of the room.

“No. No matter how many soft sheets I pile on the bed, I don’t think that will ever get any easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 73 -- Shakespeare
> 
> That time of year thou mayst in me behold  
> When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang  
> Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,  
> Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.  
> In me thou seest the twilight of such day  
> As after sunset fadeth in the west,  
> Which by and by black night doth take away,  
> Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.  
> In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire  
> That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,  
> As the death-bed whereon it must expire  
> Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.  
> This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,  
> To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


	16. Before: "This is my home"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Thor comes to deliver good news and is not as well received as he expected. The action in this chapter picks up two years after the final letter of ch. 15 was delivered.

“Loki! Loki where are you! I have a message from Father!”

Thor pounded hard on the front door once more. “Loki!”

Suddenly the door swung open and Thor’s fist swished through the empty air. “Sigyn!” Thor’s smile faltered a fraction when he saw her. She long ago had ceased disguising her skin, but it was the first time Thor had seen it. Her warm brown complexion set off her hazel eyes in startling relief, taking him aback momentarily. To his credit, though, he recovered quickly, the smile returning to his face as he asked, “Where is my brother? I finally have good news.”

Sigyn raked Thor down and back up with scathing eyes before she answered, “Loki has gone out on an errand. He won’t return until late this evening.” She drew her mouth into a thin line and raised her chin. “What are you doing here?”

The suspicion in her voice was far from the welcome he had expected, and Thor took a step back from the entry.

“Is something wrong?”

Sigyn huffed a cynical laugh. “Nothing more than usual, I suppose. What do you want?” She pointedly did not step out of the way nor did she invite him in, and Thor stood awkwardly on the turf outside.

“I came to speak to my brother. I have news from Father. He has given permission for Loki to return home.”

“This is home,” she spat back.

“I mean that Loki can come back to court. Father has decided to end his exile early, as a reward for his excellent service.”

“I will tell him you said so, as soon as he returns.”

“May I not wait with you and tell him myself.”

“You may wait.”

But as Thor stepped forward to enter the house, he was stopped short when Sigyn failed to move out of the doorway. Instead her hand went back to grab onto the door. “There’s plenty of space outside. I wouldn’t want you to feel cramped in this tiny little house,” she explained, then she closed the door decisively behind her.

Stunned, Thor stared at the dark green door for several long moments before he took a seat on the rustic bench outside to wait Loki’s return. It was a long wait. Many hours later, as the sun drifted low on the horizon, Thor spied Loki’s horse walking lazily up the road toward the house. He stood hastily to shout a greeting, “Loki!”

His brother dismounted as he reigned in close and greeted Thor cautiously, “Thor? What are you doing here?”

“You sound just as suspicious as your wife. What is the matter?”

Loki shot his brother a look that questioned his older brother’s intellectual powers, and then he repeated his question as he began to walk his horse around to the stable, “What are you doing here, Thor?”

“Father has said you may return to court, Loki. He has cut a full 20 years off your sentence. I thought you would welcome good news after . . .” here, Thor faltered a bit, “I had hoped that I would be able to lift your spirits with such good news. I know it has been a difficult time for you.”

Loki paused briefly before responding, “I don’t think Sigyn will consent to returning, not so soon after we’ve buried the boys — it’s only been two years.”

“Well . . .” and Thor stumbled over his words, “I don’t think that . . . that is . . . she wouldn’t . . .”

Loki’s eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Spit it out, Thor.”

Thor ran his hand over the back of his neck. “She wouldn’t be coming, anyway.”

Loki rounded on him. “I beg your pardon?”

“She wouldn’t be coming. Father has lifted your banishment, but Sigyn would have to stay here or move back with her guardian. She cannot live in the palace.”

Loki stood speechless for a moment before his face hardened in distaste. “Well, then, Thor, you can tell _your_ father that I choose to remain here with my wife. I will not live where she is not welcome.”

Thor’s brow crinkled in confusion and he sought to close the distance between them. “Loki . . .”

“No. I will stay here. With my wife, and with those people who offered their support while our children lay ill and dying.”

The bitterness in Loki’s voice caught Thor up short, but he plowed forward in spite of it. “But you owe your duty to our father, to your family, and the realm. Have you forgotten so easily that you are my brother?”

“Am I? Where were you when Sigyn lay exhausted in childbed? Where were you when the boys fell ill? Where were you when she begged the oh-so-gracious Allfather for the help of a real healer — her own guardian? Where were you when we lay our children to rest? My family is here. And I will not leave it for some hollow promise of conditional affection or favor.”

By this time Torvald had come around from the back of the house. He cautiously took the reins from Loki, and discretely walked the horse the rest of the way to the stable, while the two brothers faced off.

“Loki, please, I wanted to come, but Balder was negotiating his marriage contract with Amora. My presence was required at home. Father never would have permitted it.”

Loki brushed past Thor and made for the house. “How inconvenient for you.”

Thor called after him and started to follow, “I wept for them — for you!”

“How very helpful. I’m touched by your concern,” he spat back, not bothering to turn around.

Thor’s voice became desperate. “So you will not return home with me? You know, you probably would not even be married if it weren’t for me.”

Loki turned abruptly just as he reached the door. “No, Thor, for the last time, I will not return with you. Allow me to repeat myself once again: I will not go where my wife is not welcome. And while I will acknowledge your part in the start of my relationship, you have certainly not lived up to that early show of loyalty — if that’s even what it was, and not just a summer lark for a taste of adrenaline. It’s been 30 years, Thor. We have lived out here for 30 years, and this is the first you show your face. At least Frigga was good enough to come when the boys were born — even if it was in disguise, and for just a few hours before she scurried back to the shadows of your father. Eir at least sent letters. But you? Nothing! And now you wish to assert how much fraternal care you’ve labored under whilst we were gone? I think not. I have grown, _Odinson_ , in my exile. I can see much more clearly what true brotherhood looks like.”

Thor opened his mouth to defend himself, but Loki cut him off, “No, Thor, at least Balder’s casual bigotry was honest, but your cowardly silence — it’s despicable.”

Loki wrenched the door open, before turning to offer his brother a few parting words. “Feel free to recount my words precisely to the Allfather.” He glared up to the roof where a raven offered him a cool stare in return. “I’m sure he will get a full report, regardless of how you temper your re-telling.”

Thor stared with an open mouth as Loki entered the house and slammed the door.

Once inside, Loki leaned heavily against the door, scrubbing his forehead, and Sigyn came over to stand in front of him.

“Not eager to run off and play at court with your brother?” Her mouth quirked upward in a sarcastic smile.

“Ha! Did you hear the terms?”

“No, but I can guess. The not-wife is to remain at the country estate while the prodigal son returns home properly chastened and humble?”

Loki nodded, “You have uncanny powers of prediction, as usual, my love.”

“I never thought there would be any other sort of return, dearest. Odin made it very clear that he would never accept me fully as your wife.” She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him to go fuck a goat.”

She giggled as she pulled back to look at his face. “You didn’t! Really?”

“Well, not in so many words, no, but I made it clear that I would not return to court without you.”

She tightened the grip about his middle once more, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Oh my gallant knight. Do you think that’s really a wise decision?”

Loki circled her with his arms. “You’re not telling me that you are in any way sanguine about this . . . this blatant insult? How is this in any way acceptable?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up despite their frustration. “Certainly it is far from ideal, but is it a good idea, do you think, to remain isolated out here, when you could cause so much more trouble there?”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighed deeply. “Loki, something is wrong. You see it just as well as I do. All these new rules, the crushing bureaucrats, those things that pass for soldiers — which you have never offered an adequate explanation for, by the way — it’s all wrong. The Allfather always had a penchant for discipline in his own household, but he was never needlessly dictatorial. Something changed while we played house out here.”

“And you think I can do something about it?”

“I think the gossip at court, at any rate, will be a little more interesting than the news we get from the old biddies in the village. Besides, I find it hard to believe that you don’t want to take every opportunity possible to irritate Balder. I have spent a good portion of the last 30 years dreaming up delicious ways to make his life miserable, and now that he’s marrying Amora, I have a double target. Would you deprive me of that?”

At that, a smile finally lit up Loki’s face. “You make a persuasive case, dearheart; however,” and here he slid his hands over Sigyn’s curves, “I have discovered that I am a supremely selfish creature. And now that I have been home for two years, I find that there are certain things I am simply unwilling to part with.” Loki traced her neck with the tip of nose as he finished speaking.

Sigyn snorted. “I admit that I have allowed myself to become spoiled, as well, but surely there are ways we can compromise. What, precisely, were the terms of your parole? Are you required to live in the palace? Am I permitted to dwell in town? Perhaps you could offer conditions — when a messenger flanked by a phalanx of soldiers returns to drag you back to court for you to explain yourself, tell them that you will return willingly if the Allfather purchases a house for you next to the palace. That way you could attend on His Majesty during the day” — and Sigyn moved in close to brush her lips against his — “and on me in the evening” — moving in for a deep kiss as she finished speaking.

Loki sighed as she pulled away from him once more. “He would never agree to that — it sounds much too much like negotiating, and he would never negotiate with one so far beneath his dignity.”

“I think you underestimate his desire to keep his eye on you, now that you no longer travel with his feathered spies.”

Now Loki snorted. “In that, dearheart, you may actually be correct. His distrust might be the only leverage I have at this point.”

“You have always been skilled at using whatever tools happen to be available.”

“True,” he purred, as he began walking her backward toward the kitchen. “I am an excellent improviser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 109 -- William Shakespeare
> 
> O, never say that I was false of heart,  
> Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.  
> As easy might I from myself depart  
> As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:  
> That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
> 
> Like him that travels I return again,  
> Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,  
> So that myself bring water for my stain.  
> Never believe, though in my nature reign'd  
> All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
> 
> That it could so preposterously be stain'd,  
> To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;  
>     For nothing this wide universe I call,  
>     Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.


	17. In the panopticon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Loki returns to serve the Allfather at the palace proper, Sigyn serves those whom the royal house neglects, and they both find ways to serve each other.

A golden, illuminated letter arrived announcing Balder’s wedding, seeking Loki’s presence. Without, notably, mentioning a plus one.

Loki did not attend.

Instead, he and Sigyn spent that week moving into a house just a few streets away from the palace. Odin had been surprisingly quick to accede to their request, purchasing a modest, yet suitably aristocratic home for them in town, even going so far as to offer them a full-time staff of cooks, maids, and butlers. Not surprisingly, they politely turned down the staff, instead carefully hiring their own people and ensuring they were paid directly from funds separate from the royal treasury, while Anna and Torvald remained in the country to look after the house there.

The adjustment was awkward.

Loki and Sigyn both knew that living in town would be uncomfortable — they expected a tense push-pull between Loki’s duties at court and their private lives. They had not entirely anticipated the emotional drain that came with constant surveillance. 

Certainly, they had been watched while in exile. Town officials sent regular reports on Sigyn’s activities, just as Odin’s ravens traveled with Loki on each diplomatic mission, and occasionally flew over their house. 

A life near the palace, however, meant an entirely new level of exposure. Their comings and goings met with far greater scrutiny. With houses packed tightly together, along narrow, crowded streets, curious eyes followed them everywhere. When Sigyn walked out to see patients, the markets were closely monitored by bureaucrats. As Loki attended on Odin, his duties were often conducted publicly, seen and remarked on by many. 

Every step outside their home was noted — who they spoke to, for how long, at what time of day, their demeanor and mood, what they wore and carried with them. And while Loki bore this with the vague annoyance of a prince who had grown up in the public eye, Sigyn rankled at the lack of privacy, even as she steadfastly refused to change her habits, or return to disguising her dark complexion. She made a point of visiting her patients daily — back straight, head proud, her copper skin and curly dark hair cutting through a sea of blond heads like the prow of a ship through water. At home, though, it took its toll in lost sleep and shortened tempers.

Other changes added to their un-ease. It took little time for them to notice how a mighty edifice of bureaucracy had grown in their absence, and been reinforced with militaristic precision. Licenses were issued and recorded. Standards were imposed and enforced. Numbers were collected. Designations were assigned. And always the shadowy presence of the blank-eyed enforcers remained in the background. 

Elli had called them dolls.

Loki called them golems. 

Both of them twisted their mouths when they said the words, as if they had eaten a fist full of bitter herbs.

Odin praised the enforcers as the means to bring order to a disordered realm. And it was true — the streets were cleaner than ever before, the shops gleamed as never before, the villagers obeisant as never before.

Though they were, perhaps, a little less joyous.

While Odin obliged Loki to attend at court, Sigyn was left to her own devices at home. As before, she steadfastly refused to purchase a business license; instead, she sought out those who could not afford fees, or whom healers would not visit. A few of her former clients sought her out, especially when they were in need of discretion. Mostly, however, she saw to the poor. She sought out the whores to supply their birth control, heal their bruises, and treat their children’s colds. 

She took on a few pet projects. She bought the house across the street, had it re-fitted with scaled-down furniture, and invited the ambassadors from Nifflheim to stay when they came to visit. She purchased an empty house down the street knocked out a few walls, raised the ceilings, enlarged the doors, and asked the stone giants to stay. Each residence required a staff — a staff she hired herself from those she had met during her practice. A housekeeper who had been a seamstress until she lost trade because she was an elf. A steward who had been a carpenter, until he lost his license for becoming too close with his male journeyman. Sigyn had lost her own children, but she became a mother those who were seen by Asgard as “less equal.” 

Her activities were not always approved of.

“Odin has seen fit to inform me that you have been keeping company with undesirables, my love,” Loki cheerfully related one evening. It was late — she had already eaten and sent home the staff. “He has hinted that your associations are unseemly, and reflect badly on the royal house to which you aspire to assimilate yourself.” 

Sigyn scowled in response, failing to see the humor, “It’s a good thing I do not aspire to assimilate myself within the royal house, then, isn’t it? Why would I want to break bread with a rutting, one-eyed goat such as himself?”

Loki snorted. “I see your sense of humor did not make it back home with you from your rounds.”

“No,” came her terse reply. “No, I left my sense of humor with the family of dwarves that were evicted from their home this morning because an Asgardian couple desired their house. They have been removed to an apartment two blocks away from us.”

Loki sobered considerably. “Ah.”

“That’s four in the past month, Loki. It’s not coincidental. They’re clearing all of the strangers out of the other neighborhoods. You know that, don’t you? They’re turning this into a ghetto.”

“I am aware. Yes.”

“They’ve doubled the patrols here. You know that, too?”

“Yes.” He sank into the sofa next to her.

“Well, then, I feel it’s my duty to be as frequent a pain in his royal ass as I can possibly manage.”

Loki snaked his arms around her to draw her into a tight hug. “Excellent. Just don’t get yourself arrested, dearest. You are the only thing that makes this life bearable.”

She huffed at that, before molding herself into his embrace and returning it. “Once upon a time, you were supposed to be the trouble maker.”

“Lucky for me, I have been able to sub-contract a few of those duties to an excellently well-qualified expert.”

“Have you, now?”

“Yes, and I find that she is much more skilled at it than I, for she manages to be a painful burr in my nominal father’s ass end while actually doing some good in the world. That is something that I never seemed to accomplish on my own.”

“Always the liar, you. I’ve seen you in action.”

“I speak nothing but the truth. At this moment.”

“Spoken like a true subversive,” and she caught his mouth with her own.

Loki hummed with pleasure at the contact, as hungry as she for warmth and a release from the tension that had been building all day. He pulled her with him as he stood, practically dragging her upstairs to their room, and falling on top of her when they crashed into the bed. She turned them over to rest her full weight on his chest and drink her fill of his mouth, as her fingers threaded into his hair. Loki moaned from deep in his chest as she pulled away to trail wet kisses across his jaw and lick the salt from his neck, breathing in the scent of leather that still clung to his skin. His reaction was visceral — “Ohhh Sigyn . . . How did I possibly survive all of those months apart? Norns, you are everything I need.”

She hummed into his neck, utterly pleased with herself, “That’s exactly what I want to hear,” came her breathy reply before she sat up, and, straddling his hips, unbuckled her tunic and lifted it over her head, arcing her back and grinding her aching crotch into his. 

“Fuck me, that’s a beautiful sight,” and his hands trailed up her thighs, over her waist, and then upward still to cup her breasts and roll her tight nipples with his fingers as she hissed in response. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, husband mine,” and she pulled his torso up by the shirt, then quickly worked said shirt over his shoulders to press close to the warm skin beneath, hands wandering everywhere — reacquainting herself with sinewy biceps, broad shoulders, and the muscles in his back that rippled as his hands glided over her skin in turn. 

Loki’s mouth began a delicious trail, sucking and licking its way from behind her ear as he inhaled her scent, down the tendon of her neck, and across her collarbone. One hand braced behind her low while the other snaked upwards so his fingers could bury themselves in her hair before pulling her head backwards and arching her spine, opening her up as his mouth traveled south, pulling needy whimpers from her when his tongue and lips found her tight nipples.

Her hips began rocking once more, seeking some relief against the bulge in his pants, and her words came out breathy with her desire, “Loki . . . mmmm . . . oh ah Loki . . . you’re still overdressed, love.”

Hands released shoulders and hair to somehow try and work out of their remaining clothes without losing contact until — finally — she felt his hard cock slide against the wet heat of her clit and she pushed him back down onto the mattress, both of them moaning with relief as skin finally rubbed against skin. Sigyn splayed herself on top of him, braced her forearms on either side of his chest while she snaked her hips, closing her eyes to savor the slow glide of his hardness against her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her rear. As she teased him, she alternated watching the tortured look on his face with sucking at those most sensitive places on his neck and chest.

“Ohhhh . . . Sigyn you will drive me mad . . . I can’t . . .” She giggled as his words became choked with his need, and his own hips rocked in tandem with hers. Finally, with a growl, he flipped them over and pinned her to the bed, her arms held tight in one hand over her head while his other hand guided his achingly hard cock inside her. He thrust all the way in and just stayed there for a minute, ecstasy written all over his face before he shifted, until each hand pressed one of her wrists into the mattress and he finally began to move, pistoning his hips with increasing intensity. Her body jolted and the air punched from her lungs with each thrust. “Oh . . . gods . . . yes, Loki . . . youfucking animal . . . moreofthat . . . yes!” 

He felt the tingling in the atmosphere as she slowly lost control of her seidr and began to keen. It spurred him on to keep pace with her noises as the very air in the room began to glow. The intensity of his need nearly overwhelmed him as he slammed his hips into hers, sweat dripping down his face, trickling down the perfect curve of his spine, until she cried out and clenched tight around him, arcing her back and crushing him with her thighs. 

Too much. 

He closed his eyes and could have sworn he saw fireworks as he yelled out his pleasure before collapsing on top of her.

When he opened his eyes the air still sparkled with unspent energy, and he lazily pushed it around the room with his own seidr, balling it up, making it swirl and eddy into galaxies as they both watched in a haze of sleepy bliss. 

“You know, I could still teach you how to do this.”

“Don’t start that argument, Loki, not now. I am not going to study seidr.”

He relented, unwilling to break the peace, playing with the cloud of light a bit longer. Eventually, though, Sigyn noticed his eyes begin to droop. 

“Show’s over, then, dearest?”

He let out a breathy assent, and she went over to the window and peeked out — all quiet for now. She opened the window and Loki pushed the sparkling mass out into the street and down into the ground so it could dissipate safely. Sigyn closed the window and crawled back into bed, curling around him so they were touching with every bit of skin they could manage.

“I needed that,” she whispered in the dark.

He kissed her forehead. “I know,” he sighed into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. “So did I.”

They let the silence envelope them, temporarily inoculated against the worries that wore at their edges like pebbles in their shoes. A shift. A sigh. And they dozed until early morning.

Just before dawn, Sigyn’s eyes opened with her unfailing internal clock, twisting in Loki’s arms until she could see his face. She smiled sadly as she reached up to trace lines over his cheek, brow, and lips.

He grumbled at the interruption. “It can’t possibly be time to get up.”

“Am I not allowed to admire the view?” she teased.

He cracked an eye open to glare at her. “Looking isn’t the issue, dearest.”

She smiled again and let him drift off once more. As the minutes ticked by, though, her worries returned. She shifted, feeling restless, until Loki grumbled once more, “You’re done, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. Habit. I can’t go back to sleep once I’m awake.”

“That’s not it, though, is it? What’s wrong?”

She paused before she answered. “Loki, are we still safe here?”

Loki closed his eyes, reaching out to mentally poke at the walls he had erected around their bedroom with his seidr. “Yes.”

Sigyn breathed out a big sigh of relief before turning to face him. “Loki, there are rumors.”

He smirked. “There are always rumors, dearheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. These are worth paying attention to. The palace staff are whispering that Balder is no longer content with playing second son.”

A sour look passed over Loki’s face. “Technically that ought to be third son, but go ahead.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, they are saying that he wants his own throne, that he no longer wants to play advisor to his father and golden elder brother, that he is looking off world for a dominion.”

Loki cocked his eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Where did you hear this? Balder isn’t smart enough to run a dog kennel, let alone conquer a world of his own and rule.”

“I got it straight from the most reliable of sources — the palace kitchens.” Her face turned sour when he rolled his eyes. “I’m dead serious. Turnover in the palace staff and private guard is much slower than you might think — those are good positions. Several of the girls I helped out before we got married now have steady positions managing the kitchens, and a couple of the foot soldiers I treated now have places in the private guard. These are not flighty scullery maids or drunken first years. They’re steady, and smart enough to earn advancement. And they see things, Loki. Balder might not be as smart as you or Thor, but he apparently has enough ambition for both of you combined, and he is restless. You need to keep your eye on him.”

“He will get nowhere without his wife. She is far smarter than he is, and she seems quite content leading her father-in-law around by the nose.”

“Be that as it may — you need to be careful.” 

“You’re really serious?”

“As serious as Fenryr after a rat, dearest. Balder may not be malicious, but he’s spoiled and clueless. And since most courtiers think sunshine and roses come out of his ass, he can get away with almost anything. Just make sure you don’t get caught in the blowback.”

“I will watch.”

She kissed him hard. “That’s all I ask. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I need you like I need air.”


	18. After: Before forgiveness, confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elli makes some long overdue confessions. This chapter flashes forward once more to after The Event.

“The dolls have returned.”

“What?”

Elli wiped her feet as she closed the kitchen door, then gave up and removed her shoes altogether.

“The dolls are back. Not right here, but over the hill to the west. We need a plan.”

Sigyn stood speechless at the counter, mug clutched tight in her fists, mouth slack. She just stared as Elli finished removing her coat and turned back to face her.

“Well don’t just stand there, girl. Finish making the tea, and we’ll confer.” Elli bustled over to nudge the younger woman to action.

“Confer about what?” Loki poked his head into the kitchen door.

“The dolls. They’ve been spotted over to the west.”

“To the west? How do you know this?”

“I have my ways.”

“Don’t get cryptic with me, Old One; I can’t make plans if I don’t know what pieces are in play.”

Elli rolled her eyes. “Fine. I brought some extra eyes with me while I waited for your beloved to re-appear. They blend in well here, in the foothills, as long as they stay still.”

Loki narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Some?”

“A few.”

“A few?”

“More than a few.”

“More than a few?”

“A few dozen.”

“A few dozen what?”

She finally drew herself up proudly, as if expecting a fight. “Stone giants.”

CRASH!!!

Heads whipped around to face a very sheepish Sigyn. “Sorry. Sorry. The mug. I just dropped a mug. I’ll get the broom,” clearly looking for a way out of the room so she could process the new information.

“No,” Loki countered. “It’s a good time to practice. Use your seidr.”

She glared at him.

He glared back.

“It’s too much trouble.”

“I think you no longer need a broom to clean up a mundane mess like that.”

Elli smirked as they faced off.

Sigyn narrowed her eyes at him one more time, whispered something under her breath as she made a sign, and suddenly the pieces flew together, re-forming perfectly into their original shape.

“HA!” Loki’s voice was triumphant. “I knew you could do it!”

He barely caught the mug when Sigyn threw it full force at his head.

“Shut up, you ass end!”

Elli sniggered at them.

Sigyn rounded on her, still furious — “Oh don’t you start, as well!”

Elli moved around to take the cup away from Loki, and then turned to the stove in search of the kettle, “Aren’t you going to make me some tea, girl?” She wheezed through her laughter. “Stop fooling around with the crockery.”

“Right.” Loki turned to face Elli, still sporting his shit-eating grin. “What’s this about stone giants lurking about Midgard? Isn’t that expressly forbidden by about a dozen different inter-realm treaties?”

“Yep,” as she continued fussing with the kettle.

“And they’re just hanging about by the dozens?”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“As long as we’ve been waiting for her to come back.” Elli finally judged her tea satisfactory and turned to sit at the table.

“A hundred years.”

“Yep.”

Sigyn had been watching this exchange much like one watches a ping pong match, back and forth, but now she finally interjected. “Elli, you can’t possible have hidden several dozen stone giants on Midgard for a hundred years.”

“Can and did, child.”

Loki and Sigyn both joined her at the table and waited for an explanation. It took a while, as Elli seemed unwilling to enlighten them, until finally she broke the silence with a huff, “Oh great goddess’s tits! It’s not that complicated. They’re stone giants. Get it? Stones. We are in the foothills. As long as they stay still, what do they look like? Very big rocks. They are also exceedingly patient, much like — shall I say it again? — rocks. They could sit there for a millennia as long as some moron doesn’t come along with a sledgehammer looking to make gravel. I thought you two were smart?”

She was answered by a perfect chorus as the couple spoke simultaneously, “But why?”

Elli’s face soured as she replied, somehow slamming the cup to the table without spilling a drop. “Because we should, that’s why. Because we didn’t last time. Because we failed you once, and we don’t plan on doing it again.”

“Elli,” Sigyn interrupted, “that wasn’t your fault. What would you have done?”

“It was! It is! If we failed to act through ties of kinship, we should at least have acted out of obligation — atonement. We owed you a debt,” jabbing a finger at Loki and looking straight in his eyes with a pained expression. “We saw what the witch was about. We knew what she had stolen and where she kept it. But we did nothing.”

Loki sat back from the table, his face suddenly cold. “There’s an awful lot in that statement that requires explanation, Old One. When did you expect to deliver it?”

When Elli failed to reply, Sigyn looked that the old woman through narrow eyes. “She didn’t.”

Elli had the grace to look the slightest bit sheepish as she stared into the depths of her tea. She breathed out heavily, and rubbed her eyes. “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”

“We could just work through it statement by statement. Let’s start with kinship,” Sigyn prompted her.

“That at least is easy — he’s a giant,” she waved in Loki’s direction. “A little one, maybe, and an ice giant at that, so the ties are stretched, but they’re binding nonetheless.” She nodded curtly. “For all the Aesir think we’re a bunch of savages not to be trusted, we honor those ties.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “At least we should have. We didn’t.”

“Alright,” Loki’s voice cut in, “that seems a little too simple, but I’ll let it rest for now — so much for kinship. What atonement do you seek? What debt do you owe?”

“Peace.”

“No one will interrupt you, Old One. You need not chide.”

Here Elli closed her eyes briefly and spread her hands out on the table in front of her, heaving a great sigh. “No, Loki, that is the debt we owe — peace. You gave us peace. When your father abandoned you at the temple, when Odin took you up, you gave us peace.”

She paused to take another deep breath and gather her thoughts, first searching Loki’s face, then Sigyn’s, before moving her eyes back to Loki’s. She held her firsts in tight balls as she continued, “Laufey had been fighting that useless war with the Aesir for decades, and we all fought alongside him, because kin fight for their kin, even though we knew we would never win. It was a slow loss by attrition, but Laufey was adamant. When your mother bore a runt, it was easy to convince Laufey that your birth —“ and here Elli took one more deep breath, her face twisted with guilt, “that your birth was a sign he was cursed, that you should be the sacrifice to the Fates or we would never gain a victory. Afterward, it was easy to lead Odin into the temple where he would find you. We knew Odin would be unable to resist “rescuing” the poor babe, and that Frigga would probably want to keep you as her own — you were an adorable babe. We hoped it would give them added incentive to negotiate a peace, so we could all go back to the mountains and heal our wounds. And it worked. We owe you peace.”

Loki’s fury rolled off him in great waves, every muscle tense, though his voice remained low, controlled. “So it’s thanks to you that I was ripped from my mother and brought up in an alien place? Taught to hate my own kind? To hate myself? Who is this “we” you wrap yourself up with?”

Elli ground the heels of her hands into her eyes fighting for her own control. “We” — her voice so low they could barely hear it. She shook her head slowly, and then continued without looking up. “The “we” is myself and your mother. She was my cousin, stuck in an arranged marriage with a lunatic bent on war,” and Elli looked up, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “As soon as she knew what she carried, she sought out my help — she knew what sort of life a runt would lead in Laufey’s house. So we hatched a plan to get you out — that was our first motivation — if we were lucky, we thought we could _maybe_ instigate an end to the war. And it worked. We saved you. And you saved us. All of us.”

She paused once more, sliding her hands over the table, aimlessly brushing at non-existent crumbs. “Once your mother died, I kept as close an eye on you as I could. I promised your mother that much. But I did not help when it counted. I just watched.”

The silence stretched out once she finished, as the couple worked to process what she had told them. Loki’s hands clenched and unclenched as they rested on the table. Suddenly he stood. “I am going up to my workshop. Leave me be for a while.”

And he stalked out.

Sigyn stood and started pacing. “I don’t know what to say. I’m angry you never said anything. I’m furious that you used him — a babe — helpless. I’m angry that he had to spend all those years calling that fat goat father. I’m heartbroken he never knew his mother. But I’m grateful he wasn’t raised by that lunatic. Oh Elli!” And here Sigyn stopped pacing and turned to look at her directly. “Why did you never say?”

“I almost did. At the wedding. But I didn’t want to spoil your joy, and I didn’t want Thor to know, because goddess knows he would have gone straight to Odin for an explanation. And then I began to think that it wouldn’t matter. Best leave things alone. It would only stir the dregs up from the bottom of the kettle. I knew you were in for a hard life as it was — I’d seen that much in the coffee grounds — and didn’t want to add to it.”

“So I guess that makes you Aunty Elli.” Sigyn’s tone was sharp, caustic.

“Goddess, Sigyn! Please don’t.” Tears still sat in her silver eyes just ready to fall, and Sigyn relented. She re-filled Elli’s cup. Made one for herself. Dug around to find some biscuits, though neither of them were hungry. She wiped down the counter, and checked the fire in the stove.

Once she ran out of things to occupy her hands with, she sat back down with a sigh. “So, then, what about the last thing you said, that you knew what Amora had stolen.”

“You’re sure the house is sealed? Heimdall cannot hear us?”

Sigyn nodded.

“Well, then, I guess I might as well spill everything while I’m at it. We’ve been here a lot longer than 100 years. At the end of the war, some of us just didn’t care to go home — it’s a nice spot here, and the mortals generally prefer the coasts and the plains, so it’s pretty quiet. There are still some Jotuns who live at the poles, and the giants in these hills got so they wouldn’t move for decades at a time. We never bothered anyone — the ones who stayed were much too tired to stir the pot any more. When the mortals first built this village, they took the giants for a piece of the mountain, built their cathedral right next to one, because they thought it was sacred — such a big rock that looked so much like a person — imagine that.” She snickered at the thought. “Cyril was amused. He thought the mortals were rather cute, running around, building things in such a great rush to get things done before they died. He thought it was kind of funny, too, when Balder first showed up — Odin’s golden son! — and waited to see what sort of an ass the Aesir would make of himself. Except he didn’t. Because his wife made sure of it. And when Cyril saw that she had the Stone, he knew there would be trouble, so he made the effort to go back home. He told me what he’d seen. And I could add it up, because I had been to your house — I saw the dolls, talked to you about what you’d heard. But we did nothing. I thought it would work itself out, and I was sure Odin would start another war if he found out we hadn’t left Midgard. So I just watched.”

As she finished, Elli scrubbed her face in her hands once more before meeting Sigyn’s gaze with a determination and intensity that startled the younger woman. “I won’t do that again.”

She brought her fist down on the table then splayed her fingers wide to illustrate. “We are all over this valley. We see everything. And when Amora tries to rise again, we will obliterate her.”


	19. Before: "A rat!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lokis and Sigyn make promises very different than the ones made by Balder and Amora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a flashback to before The Event.
> 
> Part 2 of this chapter contains some dub-con elements and could be triggery for some -- includes bondage and a knife. Be warned.

Loki frowned at his wife when he got home, refused to speak as the steward helped him pull off his boots, and then stood in the doorway of her receiving room, arms crossed as she cleaned up from her last client for the day.

She frowned back. Glowering at him silently as she moved around the room, deliberately moving more slowly than required, paying extra attention to little details that she might otherwise have skipped, until finally she could think of nothing else that needed to be done, and she rounded on him,

“What?!?!”

He pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling.

She narrowed her eyes before brushing past him to stomp up the stairs. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath.

Once in their bedroom she rounded on him as he closed the door. “What?”

Loki closed his eyes in frustration, rubbing at his forehead before launching his attack. “You promised!”

“Promised what?”

“You promised that you would not do anything to get arrested.”

“What have I done?”

“Don’t even try that with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

An almost imperceptible twinge passed across her face, but she straightened her back ever further, fists balled up at her sides.

Loki huffed out a breath that conveyed more of frustration and sadness than it would seem possible, and stepped closer. “The fire, Sigyn. How could you let that happen?”

Her face scrunched in frustration, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. “It was an accident,” the words coming out in a tight whisper.

“We cannot afford an accident.” And he reached for her, but she backed away defensively.

“You know what they did — Gunther’s family has lived in that house for two generations, and they just kicked them out, offered them maybe a tenth of what the property was worth. It’s infuriating! And I wasn’t even there. I was with the family helping them sort their stuff at the new apartment.” She gritted her teeth. “I don’t know how I did it.”

“Yes, well, there is a sort of pattern here, don’t you think? Maybe it’s time to find out exactly how you’re doing it!” He raised his voice in frustration. “Let me teach you how to control it! Sigyn, it’s too dangerous. Eventually someone will make the connection. You have to learn some control!”

“No. I will not be controlled!”

“I will not be controlling you! Why do you always say that? It will be you learning to control yourself!”

“I am fine just the way I am — I do not need _adjusting_.”

“Please, Sigyn, if they take you from me, what will I do?”

Sigyn stood silent in the center of the room, arms crossed, staring at the far wall. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Dearest.” Loki took a tentative step closer, but she still backed away.

She looked him in the eyes defiantly. “I will not be taught.”

His shoulders slumped. “Then at least — please — be more careful.”

She nodded. “I will. I promise.”

He nodded tiredly in return, and went to sit on the edge of the bed where she joined him, and he changed the subject. “Amora and Balder are off to their country estate once more.”

She offered a hollow smile. “Funny how often they travel up there given how much she despises the place.”

“Yes, well, they’re still in the honeymoon stage, aren’t they? It’s only been a few years since the wedding.”

Sigyn snorted derisively, recovering herself a bit. “Honeymoon! They had their honeymoon while you were still an ambassador in Utgard. She strung him along for decades before they finally asked for a contract.”

“Whatever you want to call it, they’re off again.” He tentatively reached over to twine his fingers with hers, and she leaned up against him.

“I wonder what they’re up to.”

Loki smirked. “You’re more suspicious than I am.”

“I don’t trust him,” she replied with a sigh.

“Are you still hearing things?”

“I am. You know they never take any palace staff or members of the guard when they go, only those things.”

“The golems?”

“Yes, those. And I’ve been told that Amora’s entire staff is made up of them — even her maid. The only interaction she has with real staff are from the kitchens.”

“Ah, now I see where your information comes from.” He nuzzled her neck before speaking low with his face hidden in her hair. “Would you feel better if I could find out more information?”

“It might. But that worries me, too. Be careful.”

“Always.” He paused for a bit, and then added in a lighter tone, “I think I shall ride out to see how Anna and Torvald are getting on.”

Sigyn pulled back to give him a long, anxious stare and took a deep breath. “Ok. When can I expect you back?”

“A week, I think. I will let my employer know first thing in the morning, and then I’ll be off.”

“A week. Only?”

“I promise. And no fires?”

“I promise.”

Loki rode out after a couple of days, and everything went on as usual, but the day before he was to return Sigyn’s breakfast was interrupted by one of the manservants.

“Madam?”

“Yes?”

His brow scrunched nervously. “His highness will not be back today, will he?”

“No, Michael, not until tomorrow, late. Why, what’s wrong?” She was already pushing back from the table to go see.

“They’ve done it again, Mistress. This time in front.”

“Oh piss!” Sigyn marched to the door, grabbing her jacket as she pushed through the door. She had just managed to reach the bottom step when a shriek of anger stopped her cold, and she closed her eyes in frustration as she muttered curses under her breath. When she opened her eyes again the first thing she saw was Loki bearing down on her, face pale with anger.

“Who did this?”he hissed. “I swear, I’ll hang them by a butcher’s hook and bleed them dry.”

Sigyn stepped out into the street to look at the damage herself, her voice resigned, “What did they do this time?”

“This time? You mean this has happened before?”

She just nodded as she took in the vandals’ handiwork: two stick figures — one blue and on its knees, the other black with crazy curls at odd angles sticking from its head and holding a leash; beneath it all, in bold black letters was the word “ergi.”

“When? When did this happen before? Why did no one tell me?”

She sighed heavily. “Every time you leave, Loki. It’s quite regular. Everyone knows your whereabouts, apparently.” She turned to face him, arms crossed, a sad smile on her face.

His voice got quiet, “Why did you not tell me?”

“To what end? It would only make you angry, anxious.”

“I could have done something!”

“It’s kids, Loki. They’re long gone — how could you find them?”

“I could have told Odin.”

She scoffed. “And what would he do? If he found them, maybe he would give them a little slap on the wrist, but more likely they’d get a pat on the head on the way out. Do you think he doesn’t know this happens all over this neighborhood?”

“Did you report it?”

She laughed outright this time. “Are you serious? Loki, it’s just as likely to be the constable’s kids as anyone! Be realistic. No. We just clean it up and go on about out business like everyone else.”

Just then Michael came around from the back with a bucket and scrub brush. Loki looked between them in astonishment before waving at the servant to go back inside, “I can take care of it, Michael.”

The man nodded as Loki moved his hand and muttered a spell to erase the image. Then he turned to follow Sigyn back into the house.

Once in the sitting room and he had dropped his bag, she turned to claim a hug. “I am sorry, sweetheart, you weren’t supposed to see that. You came back early. Otherwise we would have gotten it cleaned up before you returned.”

“This is utterly appalling. I can’t believe they have the audacity to do something like this.”

Sigyn just shrugged and held him closer.

“What else do they do?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! What else have they done? What have you not been telling me?”

“Just the usual — I am a stranger, and an easy target because I stick out.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Do you really not know?” And now she pulled back to examine his face, then turned away to sit on the sofa.

“Fine — comments as I walk to the market or to see patients, slurs, carts drive a little too close to the curb and I get splashed. I get “accidently” jostled in doorways. Traders fail to “see” me when I enter their stores, or else they follow me around as though they’re sure I have sticky fingers. It’s what happens to all of us outside the palace, dearest. At least I’m not subjected to the occasional roundups the constable’s office organizes every few weeks — my marriage to you gives me a few privileges. Were you really not aware of all this?”

His shoulders slumped, all the energy drained out of him. “In denial, I suppose.” And he came to sit next to her where he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. “This is my fault.”

“How could this possibly be your fault?”

“If you had not married me, you would still have a secure position with Eir. You would be subjected to none of this.”

“Stop it, you idiot! I would not trade that for this.”

“You should have. All I have brought you is pain and exile.”

“Dearest, that is not true.”

His only response was to frown deeply as he stood once more to rummage through his luggage. “Look here,” as he opened a bag, a wan smile on his face, “I return with gifts from the countryside — there are homegrown peaches out back, dried herbs . . . and here — “he reached deep to pull something from the bottom of the sack, “— here is a ridiculously large shawl that a village girl made expressly for some mythical creature who’s beauty she believes to shine greater than the sun, and who’s healing powers surpass all others in the nine realms. She had been saving it for weeks, apparently. Anna said something about you saving her mother.”

Sigyn blushed as she wrapped herself up in the scratchy wool, nodding her head. “I remember,” but she didn’t elaborate.

“Shall we take the rest of these things upstairs?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Maybe I’ll just send the cook and Michael home early today? We can manage without them for a day.”

“Excellent idea.”

A short five minutes later and she joined him upstairs as he was shoring up the protections around the room. She wrapped her arms around him and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the worn leathers he used for travel. “Mmmmmm . . . How did I possibly survive those years you were sent away from me? You haven’t even been gone a week, and I thought I would break to pieces without you.”

He didn’t bother to reply, just pulled her as close as he could manage, burying his face in her hair. She shuffled him across the room to a big, overstuffed chair, pushed him down, and curled up into his lap — at least, as much as her long limbs could manage. “You’re tense.”

He smiled sardonically. “When am I not, these days?”

“Don’t put me off, idiot; remember who you’re speaking to. What happened?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, and pursed his lips before looking up at her. “They weren’t there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went out to Amora’s estate.”

“Oh great goddess! You didn’t!”

“Of course I did! What did you think I was going to do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to people? Read their mail? I didn’t think you would follow them out there.”

“Well I did — I am a seidr master, love; I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves. At any rate, I went; I spied, and it looked like they were there, but they weren’t. Your sources, apparently, are correct — the entire staff of the estate consists of golems, and there are also two golems shaped into near-perfect replicas of the master and mistress themselves. These were wandering about the estate, pretending to eat, pretending to sleep, even pretending to make love — which frankly, is something I wish I could un-see — but the master and mistress themselves were nowhere to be found.”

Sigyn blanched. “So what were they doing?”

“I can only assume that they were off world, and left their replicas behind so that Heimdall would not suspect their ruse.”

“But the Bifrost —“

“Is not necessary to travel between worlds if you know what you’re doing — you know that. I’ve done it. You just have to know where to look.” He shrugged.

“And Balder knows this?” she said sceptically.

“Pfft! Balder can barely find the doorway. No. Amora must know.”

“And where do you think they’re going?”

“Somewhere they aren’t supposed to, obviously. Tampering. If Balder really is looking for his own private ego trip, there are many worlds where he could awe the inhabitants into falling down to worship his golden ass.”

They fell silent, Loki pulling Sigyn closer as she closed her eyes to contemplate his news.

Struck by a thought, her eyes popped open once more. “There are places where they might find empire building to be easier, though.”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“Places where the gods once meddled, but then abandoned.”

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Places that are now supposed to be off limits to travel because past interferences led to major inter-realm wars.”

“Oh.” Understanding suddenly dawned.

“Low hanging fruit. Easiest to pick.”

Loki closed his eyes and let his head drop to rest on the back of the chair. “So they are traveling to Midgard.”

*******

“By all that’s holy, Amora, let me down!”

“No. Not until you learn you can’t stick your dick into everything that has curves and breathes.”

Balder winced when she jabbed him hard in the diaphragm and his chest heaved with indignation. “How dare you question me. I am a prince of Asgard and your lord!”

“My _lord_. Yes — that’s another thing that will have to end, my golden prince.” Amora prowled around her husband as he stood on his tiptoes in the center of their bedroom, hands magically bound over his head, stretching him out. “I grow tired of humoring your outsized opinion of yourself. I am stunned I have endured your idiocy for so long. Odin’s perfect son. Ha! Odin’s _third_ son — and by far the stupidest. I would have vastly preferred your elder brother. Loki is the only man who even approaches my intellectual level in this doltish, thick-headed realm.”

“How can you possibly say that! He is an alien — a Jotun! He has proven that he is no better than his heritage — savage, untrustworthy, uncivilized — he refuses to follow basic forms of protocol in his address.”

“What? Because he will not properly bow his head to you and kiss the hem of your garment? He is in every way your superior. You are good for one thing, Balder, and it does not involve thinking.”

Balder pulled angrily at his restraints, lifting his feet off the floor. “You bitch!”

She narrowed her eyes venomously as she stood back to watch him struggle. “You have no idea.”

Amora sauntered over to a heavy, lacquered writing table and pulled a thin, silver dagger from a drawer, pausing to polish it on a soft cloth and admire its shine in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Balder’s eyes grew wide, “What are you going to do?”

She didn’t bother raising her eyes, but just smiled. “I told you — I plan to teach you a lesson — in both chastity and humility.”

She gave the blade one last swipe with the cloth before walking back to her target. “I’ve kept track, you know. Of all of them. Scullery maids. Merchants’ daughters. Did you not notice when they disappeared? Did you never question why I replaced the staff with my creations?” Balder’s face froze at her recitation, while he tried to process exactly what she meant.

“But really, those girls on Midgard were the last straw. I believe even I’ve lost count.” She lifted the edge of his collar with the tip of the knife.

“Every time I try to do something to improve our standing, to polish you up and improve your life — every time!” She poked his chest with the blade with just enough force to prick his skin through his jerkin. “You have to ruin it — to sully my work with your mindless rutting!” Another jab, slightly harder. “By speaking out of turn!” Another poke. “By explaining things that are clearly beyond your comprehension.” A flick under the laces of his jerkin to slice them through.

Balder struggled with his bonds once more as sweat beaded on his forehead, and he tried desperately to stop the heat that suddenly pooled in his groin.

Ignoring his squirming, Amora took note of the swelling in his breeches before she once again prowled in a slow circle around him, stopping behind. Balder’s muscles bulged as he lifted himself off the floor once more and twisted his head this way and that, trying to see what she was doing.

She grabbed hold of the hem on his leather jerkin and yanked down hard, her voice quiet and cold. “I suggest you stop fidgeting, golden _child_ , or you will get hurt — the blade is very sharp.”

She smirked to see that her threat raised goosebumps on his skin, and he stilled himself. “There, I knew if I used very small words, you would be sure to understand me.” She pulled at the jerkin once more and sliced it all the way up the back, then she did the same with the tunic beneath, baring the smooth porcelain skin of his broad back.

“Amora, stop. This is outrageous.”

“The only outrageous thing is that I have waited this long, you half-witted dolt. I have been so patient with you,” and she ran the flat of the knife down his back until the point rested at the base of his spine and he whimpered.

“I suppsed you _have_ been useful in your own bumbling way,” and then she reversed the knife to slice open his breeches and reveal the rock-hard muscles of his rear, which she likewise traced lightly with the tip of the dagger. “And you are at least pretty to look at —”

“Amora, they were just mortals!”

She rolled her eyes, “ — until you open your mouth,” and she poked a tight buttock with enough force to evoke squeal.

“Ow! You fucking witch!”

“Oh yes, go ahead, insult my skills. My seidr is a beautiful thing as long as it feeds your ego and brings you admirers. ‘Look at my cute little wife and the quaint little tricks she can do.’ _Tricks_ ,” she sneered derisively. “Certainly no _true_ Aesir warrior could be overpowered by mere _tricks_!”

She proceeded — at a leisurely pace — to cut his clothing to ribbons until his breeches pooled in tatters around his ankles and his shirt and jerkin hung in shreds from his shoulders. When she at last stood back to admire her work, tiny beads of blood welled up where the blade had grazed his skin creating a lovely lines and angles over his skin.

His chest heaved with a combination of fear, indignation, and humiliation at the arousal he couldn’t contain. All the while, trails of sweat slowly made their way down his square jaw and slid down his torso, following the curve of well-defined muscles, muscles that had begun to tremble slightly with the effort of keeping his full weight from his arms. The salty sweat burned as it mixed with the garnet drops of his shallow wounds.

She licked her lips, gaze lingering on his half hard cock. “Yes, you look very good like this — stretched out. I should have taken you to task ages ago. I could do anything.” A nearly inaudible whimper escaped his lips and his cock twitched.

“Amora, you can’t . . . stop this . . . I am your husband . . . your prince . . . I will tell Odin what you have done.”

She rolled her eyes again. “How is it possible for a son of Odin to have such a feeble intellect? The only things he gifted you with are an overinflated ego and this!” He shouted in pain as Amora grabbed him hard by the balls and looked him directly in the eyes. “Would you really run to daddy and tell him your wife overpowered you, humiliated you? Bruised you?” She gave him another squeeze before lowering her gaze to peruse his exposed flesh, then rake her fingernails down his chest and smear the blood in long, dark lines. An inhuman noise escaped his lips when she wrapped her hand around his cock and began to stroke him into hardness. “Would you tell Daddy that I used you like an ergi and you liked it.”

He choked at her words. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. You do what I say.” Stroke. “When I say.” Stroke. Whimper. “In the way that I say.” Stroke. “And you do not question why I say.” Stroke. Whine.

Using her seidr, Amora positioned the heavy writing desk to push against his hips, sweep everything off the top, and then shift his bonds to force his chest down, arms still stretched over his head, ass up in the air.

“Amora, no!” Balder bucked once again against the restraints as his hard cock bounced against the underside of the desk. Amora just trailed her hands over his back, lingering at the cuts her dagger had opened up and walked around to bend down next to his ear.

“Yes. This is your place, golden child. It is where you belong. Do you see how you yearn for this? To be taught by your betters? To learn obedience?” His face burned as her voice seemed to travel directly from his ear down his spine to his dick.

She rose, and Balder winced as something clunked down onto the desk next to his head — it looked like a fat candle tapered at the top and shaped like — Balder squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a second set of magical bonds wrap around his ankles and pull his legs apart, then something cold dribbled through the crack in his rear. Another whimper escaped his mouth as a finger nudged itself against his hole. He tensed again and choked on his own spit, fighting against the wave of pleasure that he knew he shouldn’t feel, all while Amora continued to rub her slick finger over him — circling around the tight muscle, gliding down his seam to his balls, teasing his hard cock, and then traveling back up to repeat the process.

She knew it was not enough to take him. He must be forced to know he liked it — that he wanted it.

By the time she finally slipped a finger inside he was sobbing from the edging, begging for relief. Two fingers stretched him open. Three fingers burned but it was a delicious pain adding to the tears of humiliation that already streaked his face.

“Do you think you deserve completion, golden boy? Do you think you can behave yourself?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Will you run to tell Daddy what I’ve done?”

“No. No, please, I’ll be good.”

She purred her approval. “Yes. I think you will be a good boy now, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I promise.”

He felt something large and hard press up against his entrance. It burned as she pressed it into him. “Oh gods, Amora no, it’s too big.”

It was removed immediately, and for all the pain he had felt, he whined at the loss of contact.

“Would you rather I leave you like this?”

“No. No, please.”

“You want it back, then?”

“Yes,” he whispered desperately. “Please!”

And it was back, pushing against him, stretching him mercilessly, and so slowly, until he was sobbing again. Push pull. Push pull. Push pull. And his cock ached for release, dripping and swollen, and he begged for her to touch him, please just touch him. And when the thing was buried fully in his ass she finally reached around to stroke him as she worked the thing in and out and she held him like that on the edge for what felt like forever until he finally bellowed and his vision went white with pleasure as he spilled.

When she released his bonds, he found himself unable to stand, shoulders aching, legs wobbly.

Amora cooed pleasantly in a sing-song voice, “Poor baby, do you need help getting into bed?”

He nodded feebly, still whimpering, his ass bruised and swollen. She helped him move his arms to his sides, get his feet under him once more, and then guided him to lay down in soft sheets. She took a damp cloth and wiped the sweat and spill from his body before tucking him in, and he sighed with relief.

“You will be my very good boy from now on, won’t you?” as she stroked his brow.

“Yes. I promise.”

“And do exactly what I say?”

“Yes. Yes, I will.” And his eyes drooped low.

“That’s better.” She continued petting him. “Just rest your pretty head and let me do the thinking. Everything will be so much better now that you know.”

“Yes. I promise.”


	20. After -- Up from the Bottom of a Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and Sigyn figure some things out – some of which are easier to deal with than others. This chapter moves to the future again, right after Elli’s recent confession to Loki about his biological mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me -- I got another chapter done!

Elli took her leave early when it became clear that Loki preferred sulking in his workshop to actual dialog. She gave Sigyn a quick hug at the kitchen door, muttering something about needing to find someone. 

“Elli, wait,” Sigyn grabbed her arm before she turned away. “You said you knew where the stone came from.”

Elli put her hand on Sigyn’s arm, almost petting her as she looked into her eyes. “I think you know, little one. It’s no place I could go. You’ve got the book, and I think you’ll find it much easier to read now than it was before your pain-in-the-ass husband started giving you lessons.” 

Elli squeezed her arm once more and was gone, leaving Sigyn with a frustrating list of questions, but at least an idea of where to start looking for answers.

***************

After Elli left, it rained steadily for at least a week, sky gloomy, the yard dotted not with puddles, but small ponds trapped between the heaps of snow that stubbornly refused to melt.

In fact, it was gloomy both inside and out. Loki kept to his workshop nearly all day, every day, emerging only at suppertime, and unerringly in a surly mood. 

Sigyn occupied herself by practicing spells in the attic, concocting new ones, and testing out little domestic spells at breakfast or lunchtime when Loki was guaranteed to be scarce. She didn’t like an audience, though she was pretty pleased with herself one morning when she figured out how to transport Loki’s breakfast directly from the kitchen to his workshop — his scream of surprise doubled the satisfaction. She was also pretty smug on the afternoon that she finally mastered the ability to create a fire small enough to light the stove. The black marks from her earlier attempts might never be fully removed from the ceiling.

She also spent long hours at the kitchen table studying the book Thor had wheedled away from the archivist in the royal library — the history of the Norns, though their existence could hardly be described as one that had a history, or at least one that could be described as linear. Once, Sigyn had hoped to find clues about her origins, spending hours puzzling her way through the baffling text. Now, she pored through its shifting pages for any snippets related to the time stone, and to her amazement, she found that Elli was right — the puzzle seemed not quite so puzzling. Where before she fought for every unit of meaning she could wrestle from its pages, this time, whole lifetimes somehow slotted into place. She could see them unfolding. Some days she lost entire afternoons as she fell into narrative as though falling into another soul’s existence. She no longer fought for meager sentences. Everything she saw made sense. She just needed to figure out which chapters she should be looking for. 

Though Loki locked himself away much of the time, she certainly remained aware of him in other ways. Present in his absence, the complete silence of his concentration seemed to permeate the house, only to be punctuated by muffled rounds of cursing followed shortly thereafter by the shattering of glass. Whatever he was working on didn’t seem to be going very well.

Finally, after a particularly prolonged and creative burst of profanity, Loki stomped out of his workshop into the sitting room to slump into the sofa, which is where Sigyn found him an hour later staring morosely into the fire.

She leaned on the door frame, crossing her arms and wearing a wry smile. “What are you working on up there, Loki?”

He sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter.”

She snorted, but let it rest. She moved across the room to sit next to him, and took his hand as she leaned up against him. They sat like that for long minutes until Loki broke the silence, clearly frustrated.

“Dammit, Sigyn, why does this still haunt me? It was so long ago. I became who I am without knowing her, without even thinking about her. Her only legacy to me is my genetic make up. How can merely being reminded of her possibly matter so much?”

“Oh dearest, how could it not? Especially now. I suppose she hadn’t even felt real before — she was just a sort of theoretical being, like a character in a story. And now, well, it’s as though you found her and lost her at the same time.”

He sighed again and just stared at the fire, breathing, feeling Sigyn’s weight and warmth pressing against him, until he broke the silence once more.

“Where has Elli gone?”

“She wouldn’t say. Out. Wherever it is she goes. She just left, mumbling something about finding someone. Proving herself.”

“Good riddance.”

Sigyn’s best mom voice came out. “Loki.” 

Loki leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “No. Don’t you lecture me. She could have prevented all of this.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do.”

“No, you don’t. What if she had helped? What if all of the stone giants on Midgard had come out of hiding and converged on this place and taken out Amora? What would Odin have done? What if Balder had been killed by stone giant? What if Elli had killed Amora? What then?”

“Then I would not have half rotted on this boring realm for the last 120 years waiting to see whether you were alive or not.” His fingers danced over his lips in agitation, lingering over the scars.

Sigyn shifted on the sofa, putting her back against the arm and curling one leg underneath the other so she could face him. “I don’t know what you or she think she could have done without it all ending in disaster. She would certainly have been killed. You know Odin would have started a war. You know he never would have believed Balder guilty of subterfuge, or believed Amora to be anything less than a pure golden light of Aesir virtue.”

Loki kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the carpet.

“I still don’t think I can forgive her.”

“I forgave _you_. Hel, I even married you afterward. Twice.”

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, though he couldn’t quite stop his mouth from curling up at the edge before he spoke. “Yes. But you are, in all things, dearheart, the better person than I am.”

She snorted. “Oh yes, because immolation is a terrifically mature response to one’s anger.”

“Well, yours is at least a righteous anger. All of those wretches whose property you torched deserved exactly what they got.”

“Loki.”

“She did nothing, Sigyn! Nothing! Elli watched as Amora tore our lives apart. How can she possibly atone for that?”

Now it was Sigyn’s turn to sigh. “Even if you do not forgive her, would it not be better to coordinate our efforts?”

“I will not accept her help.”

“I don’t think she will take no for an answer. She will help us whether we will or no.”

He finally turned his head to look at her. “How is that, precisely?”

“How do you argue with a rock, Loki?”

He huffed. “Point taken.”

Just then, low in the ground, they felt something. Or maybe they heard something. It was kind of hard to tell the difference. It was a sound deep in the earth, a vibration that emerged from underneath them, modulating slightly up and down, nearly imperceptibly, sometimes so low they couldn’t hear it at all, just feel is deep in their bones. 

“What are they saying, Loki?”

He listened for a long while. “I cannot tell. It is the old tongue — they never taught it to me, and it has no written counterpart. I can recognize a very few cognates, but nothing clear.”

“Well, I suppose we know where she is, even if we do not know what she is doing.”

“Or who she is talking to. I do not recognize any of the voices.”

They fell silent once more, listening to the low rumble of the stone giants’ long distance conversation. The fire began to burn low.

Loki shifted, staring at the palms of his hands as if they were a map her couldn’t quite read. When he spoke this time, his voice barely rose above a whisper. “She could have told me.”

“I know, love.”

“Why could she not have given me just that much?”

“She was afraid.”

He scoffed. “Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of Odin. Afraid of you. Afraid for you. Afraid of breaking something that seemed fragile.”

“Ha!” He sat up at that. “Now I am fragile. A mentally unstable runt so close to the emotional edge that he cannot be told who his mother is or why he was abandoned? Would not an explanation have been helpful? Could she not see that with all of her thousands of years of wisdom?”

“The sarcasm is getting awful thick in here, Loki.”

“Fuck off.”

“No. Stop being a whiny ass end. She thought she was protecting you, protecting her kin. Is that not reason enough.”

“No —” he flopped backward once more and slouched into the cusions. “I don’t know. Ahhh, St Bridget’s tits — am I not allowed to feel resentful? To be angry at not having any control over this?”

“Of course you are. There is no rule that says you must forgive her,” and Sigyn smiled as she poked him in the shoulder. “and if there were, you would take great pleasure in withholding your grace simply for the sake of thwarting it. But we know Elli, do we not? We know her heart.”

“I thought I knew her heart. I am no longer sure.”

***********

The rain slowed to a trickle overnight and finally ceased altogether by midafternoon when Loki came down from his workshop to scrounge for a snack. As he approached the kitchen, his heart stuttered in his breast when he saw bright orange flames dancing in the middle of the room.

“Sigyn!” His panicked voice filled the space as he grabbed a large shawl from the back of a chair as he ran into the room.

“No! Loki! It’s ok.”

When he stopped to look closely he could see Sigyn’s from behind an orange glow. He could see now that they weren’t flames, exactly, but the air itself seemed to glow and give off an intense heat, while she apparently held it contained in her hands. She shaped the super-heated mass as he watched, expanding its radius then balling it up into a tiny white hot glow without her skin being affected by the heat at all. And her face — he could only describe her expression as ecstatic, almost maniacally so.

“Do you see, Loki? I understand. I finally understand.” And she looked at him through the waves of heat between them, giggling.

“What do you understand?”

“The fires. I know exactly how I did it. How to do it. How to control it. And I know why.” She giggled again, close to hysteria, her eyes fevered with excitement.

“How do you know?” He drew closer, though was forced to keep some distance between them because of the heat. When he glanced around the room, he noticed scorch marks on the table and one of the chairs.

“I found myself, Loki. Finally. I found myself in the book, and I know who I am.” A wide grin suffused her face.

“Who are you?”

“I am fire, and blood, and water, and magic — all at once.” And she giggled maniacally once more before suddenly clapping her hands together to dismiss the heat she had summoned. “And you’ll never guess what else?” she giggled again.

“What?” he smiled in response, though he couldn’t help the frission of anxiety the ran up his spine.

She laughed out loud, spun around, and collapsed onto a chair. “I am Thor’s sister!”

As she sat cackling in the chair Loki shook his head and walked around the table to stand in front of her once more. 

“No. No. Nononononononono, this can’t be true. You’ve gone insane from studying that book — it’s dreamtime has infected your thoughts. You have been dreaming someone else’s life.”

Her laughter finally slowed to a point where she could catch her breath, and she wiped her eyes as she answered him, “Not dreaming, unfortunately. Your adoptive family tree has got to be the most convoluted in all the nine realms. Odin is my father, in a strictly genetic sense. Isn’t that the most deliciously ironic thing you have ever heard? Odin. Who spent so many years trying to make sure I was excluded from his family dinners!” She started laughing again. “I can barely breathe for laughing at it.”

“And your mother?”

“I have many mothers.” She said smugly.

“How is that possible?”

“All things are possible when you write the fate of the world on the roots of Yggdrasil.”

“The Norns? No. That’s not possible.”

“Sort of the Norns, and sort of not.” And she giggled again.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I am not literally their daughter, if you define ‘daughter’ by genetic material, but they shaped me, gave me form.”

“Gave you form.”

“Yes.”

“Out of what?”

“Out of the waters of Yggdrasil, and of Odin’s blood that dripped into the well of Urd, and the youngest daughter of Surt.”

“You are a fire giant?” He whumped down into the chair next to hers.

“And _you_ are a frost giant — fire and ice! No wonder we brought about the end of the world.” She sniggered. “Sort of.”

“And Odin cast you out, though you are his real child.” He sniggered.

“And you were raised as his son, though you are none.” She began laughing once more, unable to contain herself.

“Where did you find this? More to the point, how did you find this?”

“It’s in the book. And I think it’s your fault, actually. Somehow, the stories make sense now — where they were a huge jumble, a tangled skein of too many fibers and colors — now they somehow resolve themselves. As I read them, I can feel the warp and weft of their fabric. I can trace the threads of narrative like weaving seidr. It’s the same thing. It’s a pattern.”

“What else have you found?”

“I found the stone.”

“Yes?”

“It belongs to the Norns, and must be returned to the bottom of their well.”

“And did it say how?”

“Not exactly, but it does mention the name of someone who has been there, someone who might be persuaded to take us there.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll laugh to hear it.”

“Oh no!” He couldn’t help the smirk that crept over his face.

“Oh yes.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Odin?”

She sniggered gleefully. “I guess I’ll have to see if Dad wants to take an excursion with his long lost daughter — I cannot wait to see the look on his face.”

“I want witnesses.” 

They both collapsed into hysterial giggles at the thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In one of his frequent quests for knowledge, Odin hung himself upside down over top of the Well of Urd – the well of Yggdrasil tended by the Norns. Blood dripped into the well from a spear wound in his side.


	21. After: Emotional Reinforcements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and Sigyn get some unexpected visitors. These events take place right after the events in ch. 20 -- I know; chronological continuity for once -- how weird is that?

Unfortunately, Sigyn’s initial giddiness didn’t last. All her life, as long as she had remained ignorant, it had been easy to construct romantic fantasies about her parents — dreams of a persecuted race, or tales of forbidden love. The reality was decidedly less romantic, and much more baffling. Immaculate conception, apparently. An asexual creation from blood fished out of a well, and magically implanted into the womb of some unsuspecting (or complicit? The book was frustratingly silent on this point) fire giantess, who had then been hounded out of her realm by a fiery father — pun intended, thank you very much. 

And why?

Certainly, it wasn’t because the Norns had suddenly gotten a maternal urge to cuddle a baby, sing lullabies, and change diapers, because they sure as Hel hadn’t done that. They created her, and then abandoned her. More than abandoned her — placed her precisely in harm’s way by leaving her mother vulnerable to the wrath of Surt, lord of all fire giants and first-class grump. Then they failed to intervene when she was dumped on Asgard, orphaned, with no hint of who her father was. It made no sense, and she felt more alone than ever, to think the Norns had created her, watched her grow, carved the runes that hinted at her fate just as they would for any other soul, re-arranged those runes as Sigyn had taken control over those the pieces of her destiny that she could — yet they had never touched her, never reached out to soothe, or forewarn. 

Was she a chess piece?

An experiment?

An instrument of spite? 

If it were the latter, she had certainly had success there, at least. 

But why?

Sigyn lay awake night after night trying to understand it. Failing utterly.

Loki pulled himself out of his own distraction to try and push Sigyn through hers. Working on the theory that inertia would either be their greatest asset or their worst enemy, he scheduled her days — a body in motion will stay in motion. He invented seidr exercises, concocted ways for her to practice her fire magic, sparred with her — fire against ice. For this, they quickly discovered that they needed to reinforce the walls of their attic practice room. It turns out that the action of super-heated air on ice is, well, explosive.

On the other hand, it was also cathartic. Sometimes, you really just need to blow something up.

Late one afternoon as they sat in the bedroom nursing a few wounds from their latest session, Sigyn finally felt ready to talk pragmatically about everything. She dabbed a salve on Loki’s neck where he’d been burned. “I’m sorry, dearest. I let that one get away from me.”

“No, it’s my own fault. I got distracted when I saw your frostbite. I let my guard down.”

She snorted. “We are a pair aren’t we? It’s a wonder we don’t simply cancel each other out in a great chaotic conflagration.”

“At this rate, we may yet manage it.” He reached around to caress her rear. “But it will be a glorious end.” 

She sniggered but kept her focus on the wound while she talked. “I suppose we should tell Thor, eventually.”

“If we expect his help, yes.”

“And we shall probably have to do that sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes. We will need his help in speaking with the old bastard, and we need to take care of that soon if we are to get rid of that stone properly.”

Sigyn straightened briefly so she could look her husband in the eye. “Do you think Odin ever suspected what I was? Do you think he knew?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly. It might explain his unreasonable hostility. Of all the bastards he fathered, you are the only one sired without his consent. They stole something from him when they created you. I can see where he would resent it, and resent you as a reminder of it.”

She turned to begin putting away her supplies. “I wonder if the Norns planned for him to take me in, and that somehow Odin sidestepped the path they had written for him.”

“That would be like him. He likes only the rules he imposes himself.”

She snorted. “Like father, like daughter!”

“That’s the spirit.” And he caught her around the waist to pull her into his lap.

They were startled then by a sharp banging on the kitchen door. They knew exactly who it was — “Elli,” Loki braced himself for a confrontation as they went downstairs.

When they opened the door, though, Elli just barely stepped inside before insisting they come out. “You must come and meet someone” was all she would say.

“Can they not come here?” Sigyn asked suspiciously.

“He is here, little one, but he cannot come into the house.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because he’s too hulking big to fit through the door, girl, and bless his heart, he’s never mastered shapeshifting, just a bit of camouflage. Come on, Loki; this is important!”

The couple found their boots and Sigyn her coat before they followed Elli around the side of the house. There they came face to knee with one of the oddest giants they had ever seen. He was 15 to 20 feet high at least, and looked as though he were carved out of solid rock, rounded smooth at the edges, and he sat with his knees drawn up practically to his chest while he peered at a tiny bird on the side of a spruce trunk, sunlight glinting off the golden rims of round spectacles that perched on his earnest face. 

Elli led them right up next to him and gently tapped his shin. “Cyril.” And when this failed to elicit a response she raised he voice, “Cyril! Here he is!”

The giant scrunched up his surprisingly expressive face in frustration as the nuthatch flew off.

“Elli, you scared her off!”

“Cyril, he’s here. Can you do the bird thing later?”

He immediately looked chagrined, and turning toward the couple, rushed to apologize, “So sorry. I just . . . Their lives are so very short. I feel as though I have to get to know them as best I can when I see them, because there is so little time . . .” He turned to face them fully, blushing slightly. “You understand, don’t you?” and a look passed over his face that seemed to plead for comprehension while fully expecting rejection.

“Um . . .” Neither Loki nor Sigyn quite knew how to respond, and they turned to Elli in search of an explanation. 

An awkward moment or two passed, before Elli looked back up at the giant. “I apologize, Cyril. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to forewarn them of our coming.”

“So, they don’t know . . .” And he was clearly a bit embarrassed by this news. Elli shook her head. “Ah. I see.”

He seemed to buck himself up a bit, and straightened his shoulders. “Well then, we should get on with the introductions, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes.” And here Elli turned back to the waiting couple. “Loki . . . Sigyn? This is Cyril. Cyril, this is Loki and his wife, Sigyn.” 

Cyril bobbed his head a bit as he replied, “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you, as well,” Sigyn replied.

Another awkward pause followed. Cyril seemed unable to speak, but just stared intently at Loki, eyes darting over every detail of his face, his brow sinking further and further into melancholy the longer he looked. Eventually, Loki spoke. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure of his visit?”

The question clearly left Cyril flustered once again. His brow scrunched with emotion as he turned a set of pleading eyes on Elli. “Could you, Elli?” as a little tear gathered at the corner of his eye. “I’m not sure I will be able to explain — he looks so much like her.” And here he produced an enormous pocket square out of who-knows-where, dabbing at his eye before blowing his nose in distress.

Elli sighed with a strange mixture of frustration and affection. “Loki, before your mother was contracted to Laufey, she was a bit of a romantic.” Cyril sighed and became intensely interested in his shoes. “She and Cyril apparently carried on a very long correspondence. They were, may I say it, Cyril?” He nodded sadly, another tear trickling down his cheek. “They were very much in love.”

Cyril heaved another great sigh, turning his gaze onto Loki once more. “She was so beautiful, like river stones washed in the rushing water of spring. Her laugh was like listening to smooth pebbles being poured into a clean clay dish — hair as dark as the deepest cavern, eyes as green as bright moss on the mountain.” He blew his nose once more and Elli took up the tale again.

“For years, their correspondence remained secret, because they knew they would never be allowed to marry — her parents preferred to play politics, and Cyril never showed any talent in that area.”

“Alas, no.” He managed a melancholy laugh.

“So when the contract was drawn up, they were forced to part. When the war started, Cyril did his part, but he proved to be as poor a soldier as he had a politician, though he did show some talent at reconnaissance.”

“Yes, that seemed to be my only useful talent.”

“Reconnaissance?” Sigyn couldn’t help but snigger as she took in the giant’s enormous frame. “How is that possible? You would be spotted immediately.”

Cyril looked offended. “I’ll have you know, I was considered a top notch intelligence agent, young lady — and my eyesight is still particularly keen, even without these glasses.”

Elli intervened. “Cyril can, indeed, give a stunning impression of a boulder — it’s amazing what people overlook when they have fixed expectations. Despite this skill, however, the warrior’s life was never one he was suited for, and at the conclusion of the war, Cyril preferred to remain here — away from politics, and away from any reminders of . . . other things.”

“I see.” Loki nodded, more than a little effected.

“At any rate, Loki, I thought, perhaps, you should like to talk to Cyril a bit. He knew your mother better than anyone, including myself, and maybe you would like to hear a bit about her from someone who cared for her as she deserved.”

Loki looked slowly from Elli, up to Cyril, down at Elli once more and up to Cyril again, mouth open like a netted salmon. When he once more looked up at Cyril, the giant pulled a packet of papers from somewhere (do giants have pockets? Where was he keeping those handkerchiefs?) “Would you like to see a picture of her? To look at you — there is no question at all whose son you are. No one could doubt.”

Elli tugged at Sigyn’s sleeve to pull her back toward the house. The younger woman hesitated, however. “Elli, what about The Watcher? Heimdall can see everything outside of the house. He will tell Thor that Cyril in on Midgard.”

“The time for hiding is over, little one. We cannot defend you and stay in the shadows both. Let the Aesir come. We are not afraid.”

Sigyn slowly brushed her hand down Loki’s arm in question, but he barely registered her touch, swallowing hard and staring wide eyed at Cyril’s packet, his head barely moving as he nodded agreement signaling both to Sigyn that he was ok, and to Cyril that, yes, he very much wanted to see what was in that packet. Sigyn let her hand fall and turned to walk back to the house with Elli.

Inside, the two women remained silent for a long while, keeping busy, but hardly registering what it was they did —just waiting and listening. Occasionally the murmuring of the men’s voices outside would be punctuated by a percussive sound when Cyril felt the need for another of his endless supply of handkerchiefs, otherwise nothing, until the women ran out of busywork, and sat together staring into the fire, Sigyn playing cat’s cradle with a seidr thread while Elli dozed.

“Elli, I found out what I am.”

The older woman raised her eyebrow at that. “Have you now? I’ve had my own theories for ages, but nothing sure. What did you find out?”

“As it turns out, my grandfather is Surt.”

Elli chuckled at that. “Well that certainly explains a great deal. I wondered about the fires.”

“It does make a lot of sense, doesn’t it?”

“And what of the other side of the family?”

“That part is a little more difficult to explain. There seems to have been a bit of deus ex machina involved.”

“Oh — someone was messing with the fabric of things?”

“On one of his quests for knowledge, Odin traveled to the Well of Urd. He made a blood sacrifice of himself. Afterward, the Norns pulled his blood from the water and did something. And then gave the seed to the youngest of Surt’s daughters.”

“You are Odin’s child?” Elli clapped her hands and cackled wildly. “Oh my great goddess! How beautiful! The symmetry is perfect!” She actually stood and whooped with glee. “We must celebrate the irony of the universe, little one! How glorious! Oh I shall take such joy in hearing every detail of your next encounter with old one-eye! It is too sweet! Bastard that he is — you know he’s half giant himself, the execrable hypocrite!”

Sigyn smiled at Elli’s antics at first, but gradually grew more sober until the giantess finally settled a bit. Elli stopped celebrating and turned to face Sigyn directly with an empathetic look.

“Oh but, little one, it can’t have been easy for you to discover this, was it? I’m sorry. I will calm myself.” She took a deep breath and sat down once more. Then her eyes crinkled once more and she sniggered again before she finally contained herself, and put a hand on Sigyn’s knee. “Are you ok, little one?” Sigyn nodded. “And Loki? How did he take the news that he has been married to his sister all these years.”

“Elli!”

She snorted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shall stop. It’s all as the Norns would have it, I’m sure, at least mostly. It never is exact, is it? We are always mucking about with their work.” Elli finally sobered. “But _are_ you ok? It is much to take in, I’m sure.”

Sigyn shrugged. “I’m getting better. It’s hard not to be angry that he has any claim to any part of me. I don’t want him to be my father, thank you very much. But there you are. We control some things, and others we do not.”

“And Loki?”

“He seems to have taken the news better than I, actually. He has gleefully concocted a dozen ways to tell Thor that I’m his sister — all of which involve embarrassing references to Thor’s attempts to flirt with me when we were young.”

“I would love see that!”

Just then, a sharp rap came at the front door. 

“Who the Hel uses the front door?” Mumbled Sigyn as she peered carefully through the casement trying to see who it was before she answered.

“Elli!” came a voice from without. “Are you there, Elli! Goat’s piss, I’m sure she said this was the place. Elli?”

“I’m coming, Logi, keep your shoes on.”

Elli opened the door to her young cousin while Sigyn peered over her shoulder. But Logi didn’t bother trying to fit through the door. Instead, he delivered his message from the porch. “Elli, we have to know the plan. The dolls are moving and there are more of them than we thought. They will be here in a week at most.”

“Oh great goddess’s tits!” cried the old woman. “Sigyn, go out back and tell your husband.”

They were interrupted just then, however, by the great BOOM of the Bifrost opening up. Sigyn ran to the window just as the shouting started out back.

“Odin’s balls!” and she turned to run out the door. “It’s Thor! Piss. Did he have to show up just right now?!?”


	22. Before: "Never say that I was false at heart"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki carries through with certain threats, and Sigyn does not handle it with sanguinity. The action here picks up after the events of chapter 19 and occurs before The Event.

Loki lay in bed that night seething over Sigyn’s confession — that she had endured a litany of humiliations in silence that he had kept himself willfully ignorant of. _Well, no more. These Aesir wretches would no longer be suffered to act with such impunity. They will face consequences._

Not that night, no; he needed to plan. Reconnaissance would be necessary, as in any successfully waged war, and appropriate responses must formulated—responses that sent a comprehensible message, served as a deterrent, but remained untraceable. The trickiest part, however, was how to keep his activities a secret from Sigyn. It would take a few days to plan.

Step one: reconnaissance.

A simple spell that clung to Sigyn’s clothes that would allow him to mentally follow her as she traveled out on her daily business. He began staying home from court a couple days each week. From their bedroom, he could enter a dream state as Sigyn went out, noting which merchants were kind, which petty, memorizing the faces of local officials who might offer trouble, or harassment.

As for identifying our friendly neighborhood street artists, more active investigations would be necessary, but not difficult, as the culprits surely believed themselves both above the law and to be doing Odin’s own work. A few nights in disguise at the local taverns would suss them out.

Step two: retribution

******

“Loki?”

“Mmfff.”

“Loki?” Sigyn sat on the edge of their bed, already wide awake, dressed, and ready to start her day though the light had barely begun filtering through the windows. Loki was distinctly less ready to face the dawn.

“Mmmmff.” He rolled to his other side to face away from her.

“Loki!” She nudged his shoulder. “Where were you last night?”

“Out.”

“I got that part. Why? It’s the fourth night in a row. What are you doing?”

“Not being quiet enough, clearly.” He pulled a pillow over his head.

“Loki!” She lifted it up.

“Trouble sleeping.”

“That’s never taken you out of the house before.”

“The walk was helpful.” His answers becoming increasingly clipped. “Can we stop talking now, since I had finally gotten to sleep?”

“Fine!” She shoved the pillow back over his head and pushed herself off the bed. “I’m going out to check on Ingrid’s children.”

His terse, muffled reply filtered from under the pillow. “Good.”

Sigyn returned in the early afternoon in a somber mood, but Loki had gone to court and returned late. When she attempted to raise the issue again, he pushed her off, insisting he was still tired.

At two Sigyn jolted awake in the dark, instinctively feeling for her husband’s warmth to comfort her.

Gone—the sheets already cold where he had lain, and a yawning pit opened up in her stomach as she stared at the ceiling and waited for his return, ten minutes, 30, 45, an hour. Finally, the sheets dragged themselves back silently and Loki slid himself into bed, starting suddenly when his wife spoke, “where were you?”

A heartbeat, then two before he responded, “Out.”

Her temper flared. “Loki!”

“Out. Walking. I needed to think.”

“And you can’t think in the house?”

“No, I could not.”

“Loki.”

He just turned away and kept silent.

When Sigyn came down for breakfast, Hilda, their cook, was grim and Michael anxious. “What’s the matter.”

The two answered as a chorus, “Nothing, mistress,” then shot each other accusing looks.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

The two exchanged looks once more before Michael’s mouth set itself in a tight line and left the room with a quick nod in Sigyn’s direction. Hilda’s eyes glued themselves to the dough she was kneading with increasing intensity. “There’s been an accident at Carlsson’s butcher shop, mistress.”

Sigyn replied with care. “What sort of accident?”

“Well, you know the constable’s son is Carlsson’s journeyman, yes?”

“Yes?”

“It’s oddest thing. Herr Carlsson’s got this clever mechanism that allowed the old man to hook the carcass from down low and it would automatically hoist the meat up to be butchered.”

“Yes?” Sigyn got that ugly feeling in her gut once more.

“Well, yesterday the old bastard went into the back and found Iricsson . . . stone cold. He must have started work early before Carlsson was up — which wouldn’t be unusual, he’s been hittin’ the bottle pretty heavy these last few years — it seems Iricsson must have slipped on some blood, and then the mechanism must’ve gone wrong ‘cause it hoisted up—” Hilga stopped suddenly as she glanced up and noticed Sigyn turn a pale. “Anyway, it was a bit of a mess, I hear.”

Sigyn felt her knees wobble and she sank into a chair by the kitchen table. Hilda finally paused her work to study Sigyn’s face, then she bustled about to place some cheese, warm bread, and tea in front of her mistress.

“It seems a pretty bad way to go,” Hilda continued in a pragmatic voice as she returned to her work, “but I can’t say anyone ‘round here will miss him.”

Sigyn opened her mouth for a reprimand, but then closed it tight, not knowing quite what to say. She chewed through the fresh bread that had never been so hard to swallow before.

She decided she would stop asking where Loki went at night.

Over the next few months, though, she couldn’t help but hear things. One particularly bigoted dry goods merchant began to find it increasingly difficult to source products favored by his Aesir clients, and then gained a reputation as a supplier for outlanders. Another tradesman of Old Blood, found himself struck with a disease usually found only in elves. The local Minister of Aesthetic Standards began to suffer osteoporosis, and the children began calling him a dwarf.

All this while Loki became increasingly taciturn and bitter. His appetite fell off and he lost weight, though his gaze sharpened.

Sigyn did not handle this gracefully. Constantly worried, her temper became increasingly short (if that were possible). She snapped at little irritations and began avoiding Loki’s company, deliberately seeing patients after her husband was home from court, occasionally remaining at a patient’s house overnight if they were particularly ill.

For his part, Loki closed up, was increasingly absent — gone sometimes for days on end, but clearly unwilling to share where he went or why. She didn’t push.

One night the cook struck up a conversation as she prepped the evening meal. “I saw Master Loki come out of Angrboda’s house the other day. Is he to go to Utagard again, mistress?”

“No, not that I know of, Hilga. He must have been passing along a message, I’m sure.”

“Oh sure, that’ll be it, then.”

Hilga went on with her work for a bit and then added. “She’s had a bit of a time, hasn’t she, with those three kids all by herself. I’ve heard he helps her out a bit with them.”

“Does he?”

“Did you not know, mistress?”

“No. We haven’t talked about it.”

“Sure, but then you do plenty of good things that he never asks about.”

“Are you trying to get at something, Hilga?”

“No, mistress, nothing.”

That night Sigyn told Loki that she was moving back out to the country house for a few months. “I’m feeling claustrophobic here, Loki. I need to breath the fresh air for a bit. It’s spring now and I can help Anna with the gardens and plant my own herbs. I’ll come back in the fall once I’ve replenished my supplies for the winter.”

Loki rounded on her in astonishment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m fairly certain you heard me.”

“Because you need air?”

“Yes. I feel like I’m suffocating here.”

“And you’re leaving me here by myself?”

“It’s not as though we see each other anymore. You’re gone more than you’re here, and when you’re here, you’re a stone facade. You will do without me just fine.”

“How can you say that?”

“I shaped my lips and exhaled — and like magic there they were.”

“You can’t—”

“I can! It’s only for the summer, and you are more than welcome to come visit — it is your house, as well.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. I’ll plan to leave at the end of the week.”

“Fine.”

She cried like a teenager all the way there. Wept herself to sleep every night for a week. Then pushed herself to fill the hours. She worked the soil and planted neat rows of herbs she found hard to purchase in town. She sectioned off a second bed for kitchen herbs and vegetables she had grown nostalgic for. Once that was done she planted flowers—everywhere. She was desperate for some measure of brightness, and this appeared to be the only way she could get it.

Anna’s children got in the way as much as they helped, though the eldest two seemed to have a knack for growing things. Sigyn taught them as much as she could, giving them a few seeds of their own and helping them pick out a likely plot to sow them in.

Fenryr followed her everywhere, outside and in. Laying in the grass as she worked the garden, following her to the village when she visited patients, lounging on the rug in the evenings, taking up residence under the table as she ate, flopping onto the bed as she slept — no mean feat, as he took up at least half of it. He sensed she was out of sorts, and insisted on being with her.

By mutual agreement, Loki and Sigyn shared no correspondence. Where before, the surveillance seemed a nuisance, now it felt sinister. _Besides_ , she thought to herself, _what would we have to say?_

After a couple of weeks, Loki visited, stayed for three days, then disappeared once more. He never offered an explanation for what he was doing, and Sigyn did not ask. She did not want to know. For a host of reasons.

When the summons came, it took her by complete surprise.

“Mistress, there’s a messenger from court.” Anna shifted nervously from foot to foot as she said it, face broadcasting obvious dis-ease.

Sigyn furrowed her brow as she took in Anna’s words. “That’s not so unusual, Anna, where’s the letter?”

“He said he must hand it directly to you—he wanted to come into the house. It’s Tyr.”

“Tyr?” Sigyn stood from the table and started toward the door. “Why would they send someone of his rank just to deliver a message? What’s his mood?”

Anna put a hand on Sigyn’s arm. “He’s got an escort.”

That stopped her short. “How many?”

“A dozen or so. They seem . . . much more serious than usual.” Anna fidgeted again.

Sigyn scanned Anna’s face as she tried to decide what this meant. _What has he done this time?_ She wanted to ask. _Did he get caught?_

And as if she could read her thoughts, Anna’s expression scrunched with worry and shrugged as if to say, _I don’t know, but what could we do if he did?_

Fenryr bumped against Sigyn’s hip and pushed his nose into her ribs, sensing her tension.

“Tell them I want to see the letter first, then I will come speak to them.” Anna nodded, and went back out the front door.

Sigyn curled her fingers through Fenryr’s fur as she waited. He had grown into an enormous companion, his head as high as her ribs, built with the hard muscle and endurance of a timber wolf, chest deep with muscle, but he was no match for a dozen soldiers led by a captain such as Tyr.

Anna returned. “He insists that he must hand it directly to you, mistress.”

Sigyn nodded. She breathed deeply before finally opening the door, standing just at the threshold, but going no farther.

“Tyr.”

“Lady Sigyn.”

Her eyebrow raised considerably at the honorific, and her mouth turned down in mistrust. “Your message, Captain?”

Her gave her curt salute by nodding his head, before he began. “Lady Sigyn, I am honored with the task of escorting you back to Asgard, where the Allfather has invited you to reside in court apartments.” He took a knee and held out a letter bearing Odin’s official seal, though he never broke eye contact.

“Invited?” She responded, cautiously accepting the missive.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you’re to ‘escort me’?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His face remained stoic.

Her eyes narrowed. “Whether I will or not, I suspect.”

He stood up once more and brushed the grass from his knees. “Yes, ma’am.” They stood silent for a few minutes, sizing up one another, calculating. Tyr’s eyes taking in not only Sigyn’s formidable aspect, but also Fenryr, who had taken a station beside his mistress with hackles raised.

“I will be honest with you, Lady Sigyn. My respect for you has never waivered. Before your marriage, you healed my wounds when I served in the infantry, stitched my arm so cleanly there has never been a scar, set my leg so there’s never been a limp. You cared for the soldiers under my command with no prejudice as to rank or origin. I grieved when you were exiled, and felt it was a great loss to the army to see you go. But I have been given strict orders. I must bring you back to court, willingly or no. You may bring whatever possessions with you that you wish, whatever servants you wish, but you must come, and I must have you back in ten days’ time.”

“And not to my own house?”

“No ma’am. You are to live at court.” He paused before adding, “It is a great honor to be given royal apartments.”

Sigyn smiled sardonically at this. “Oh Tyr, I thought we were being honest.”

For the first time during their exchange, Tyr looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 109 -- Shakespeare
> 
> O, never say that I was false of heart,  
> Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.  
> As easy might I from myself depart  
> As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:  
> That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
> 
> Like him that travels I return again,  
> Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,  
> So that myself bring water for my stain.  
> Never believe, though in my nature reign'd  
> All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
> 
> That it could so preposterously be stain'd,  
> To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;  
>     For nothing this wide universe I call,  
>     Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.


	23. Before: Seven for a Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and Sigyn have some issues they need to work through. The action here picks up after the events of chapter 22 in which Loki embarked on a campaign to teach the Aesir some respect, Sigyn was none too pleased with this, and Sigyn was “invited” to take up residence in the palace proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One for sorrow,  
> Two for joy,  
> Three for a girl,  
> Four for a boy,  
> Five for silver,  
> Six for gold,  
> Seven for a secret,  
> Never to be told.  
> Eight for a wish,  
> Nine for a kiss,  
> Ten for a bird,  
> You must not miss.

_Norns, I’m tired._ Loki rubbed his temple hard as his horse ambled up the road toward the lodge, and he sighed with deep relief as soon as the house came into view. As he got closer, though, his brow furrowed at the dark windows and smokeless chimney. 

_Sigyn should be home at this time of day._

His quick eye darted around the landscape, taking note: he could see lights in Anna and Torvald’s cottage, their older children still outside bent over a game in the fading light, Fenryr sprawled out next to them, but everything at the great house was quiet, even though the grass was trampled on the front lawn. 

_Maybe she stayed in the village with a patient._ It was not unheard of, though it happened less often out here, because of her dislike for the local officials. Even if she were with a patient, though, that didn’t explain the great divots in the grass.

He turned his horse toward the cottage.

The two children stood as he got closer, and the taller reached up to take the reigns while Loki dismounted. Fenryr trotted over to nudge at Loki’s hand, wuffing softly for a scratch.

“Leif, where is Sigyn? Will she return soon?”

The two children exchanged worried looks before the boy answered, “She’s gone back to Asgard, Master Loki.”

“Back to Asgard? When.”

Before the child could answer, Torvald came out of the house, and Loki repeated his question. “Torvald, where is Sigyn?”

Torvald frowned, his brow scrunched in confusion. “Einherjahr came two weeks ago, master, and escorted her back to Asgard. They said she was to live in the palace.”

“What?”

“Did you not know?”

Loki shook his head as a sick feeling settled in his gut. “I’ve been away, and no message was sent.”

Torvald gestured to his son to take the horse over to the stable. “I am sorry, Master, I thought perhaps you were at court and had been told.” 

Loki shook his head once more and drew close, “No. This is news to me. Is she ok? Who was the captain? Did they treat her well?”

“She is fine, though none too happy at the summons,” Torvald smiled ruefully as he said it. “The guard were led by Tyr. He was very respectful. They only just left four days ago.”

Loki dragged a hand through his hair as he contemplated what to do. “Tyr? I thought better of him than to carry out such a frivolous summons.” 

Torvald shrugged. “He had the decency to apologize for it.”

Loki scoffed, “Pfft! What good is an apology like that? Empty words to ease a guilty conscience.”

Torvald shrugged again, implying that he expected no less, before he got a twinkle in his eyes. “She at least made them earn their pay before they left.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She told them they might as well be useful while she packed up her things, since she wouldn’t be here to winterize the house. She put three of them to work cleaning the stables, and another raked out Anna’s fallow kitchen garden. Two of them hauled the carpets out of the parlor and beat the dirt out of them in the yard there. They loaded the wagon, then she made them unload it and re-pack everything before loading it all back on. Then she remembered a few more things that she could not do without. Then she had them dig through to the middle of the pile for a book she decided ought to remain here. It was quite the thing to behold. They won’t forget their stay anytime soon.”

“Ha! I wish I had been here to see it.”

Torvald sobered. “I wish it, too.” He thought for a moment, staring at the dirt at his feet before looking up once more. “Where have you been, Master?”

Loki’s eyes flashed darkly at Torvald’s implications. “Are you forgetting something, Torvald?”

Torvald paused a long time before he answered, carefully taking in his master’s face. Loki had changed since they first met, back before the couple had moved to the city, before the fight with Thor, before the children had died. The mischievous glint in Loki’s eyes had lost much of its mirth, and while he had always been lean, what few curves he once possessed were now hardened into sharp angles. 

Torvald’s voice grew heavy with melancholy. “No, Master, I know my place better than most, I imagine; it’s just that—“ Torvald lowered his voice considerably, “it’s only that we are worried—Anna and I. Something is wrong out there. We know this. But something is wrong here, too,” and Torvald held a knotted fist to his chest, before reaching inside a breast pocket to pull something out. Loki began to turn away angrily, but Torvald risked a hand on his arm, and placed an emerald ring in Loki’s palm. “She left this here, in the kitchen. She thinks she is alone.”

Loki pulled his arm away, though not with the anger Torvald expected. He clutched his fist tight around the ring, jaw muscles working as he struggled for control. After a few short moments, Loki turned back to him, eyes hard as an ice floe. A decision had been made somewhere behind them.

“I will sleep a few hours in the lodge—just enough to make sure my horse is rested—then I will leave for the court—before light breaks if I can.”

Torvald nodded, watching Loki as he strode up to the big house before he went himself to check on his son’s work in the stable. As he did so, Torvald thought to himself that he was glad not to be counted among his master’s enemies. Loki had hardened into a glacier during these last few years, and to lay in his path would be to face certain obliteration, either in the explosive crash of an avalanche, or in the slow, inexorable crushing of ice and rock over the landscape. There was no longer any mercy in him.

*****

The first thing Loki did when he reached the city that clung like barnacles about the royal court was to go to their house to see if there had been any damage. There was. Of course. As soon as he turned into their street he could see the scrawling marks of vandals on the walls. He did not expect the guards—two at each door. These informed him that his “necessitous effects” had been removed to his palace suite, while the Allfather placed a few other items “in protective custody.” Loki leveled a look at the guard that nearly caused him to wet himself, though he somehow managed to hold his position.

*****

The second thing Loki did was confront the Allfather.

“I do not owe an accounting to you or anyone, Loki. I feel it safer for you to reside in the palace itself, and if the only way to accomplish that is to invite the healer, as well, then it shall be so.”

“My wife—she is my wife, and her name is Sigyn. Refusing to speak her name will not alter that fact.”

Odin continued as though Loki had not spoken, “I ordered that your personal items be brought from the house in town to your rooms here. All of your books, your bottles, concoctions, clothing, tools—along with all of the items she requires to ply her trade—everything was carried here in complete safety.”

“And what did you keep back?”

“There were some items that I deemed sensitive, and so placed them in secure conditions.”

“And these are?”

“A silver knife, some jewelry that seems to carry some sort of enchantment, a few papers, and Laufy’s dagger.”

“You have no right!—those jewels were wedding gifts from the dwarves and Utgard. Those blades are our house weapons.”

“I have every right! I am your father, Loki, but more than that, I am your king. They are in the vault, and there they shall remain as long as I see fit.”

“For what reason?”

“Safety.”

“Whose safety are we concerned about?”

“Asgard’s.”

*****

The third thing he did was to seek out his wife. He found her in an inner parlor, sitting rock still next to a balcony whose doors stood wide open. She stared into the middle distance, doing nothing. He leaned against the doorway. As he stood there, he closed his eyes briefly, just breathing in—the smell of a fireplace yet to be re-lit for the evening, the smells of the palace kitchen wafting in through the open balcony, the smell of the honeysuckle Sigyn must have brought from the lodge, and smell of the sage and lavender Sigyn used to launder her clothes and scent her bath. The ache in his heart grew. 

At long last she addressed him without turning around, her voice flat, her sentences clipped. “Did you know about this?”

“No.”

“Where were you when the summons came?”

“Learning things.”

“When did you find out?”

“I spoke to Torvald. Apparently I only missed you by four days.” Loki smiled stiffly. “He tells me you made the Einherjahr earn their keep while you packed.”

She did not smile as she replied. “It was the least they could do.”

Loki remained in the doorway during the long pause that followed, anchored there by the cold pit that had settled in his core ever since he realized the full extent of the ugliness that had settled on Asgard. The weight in his chest intensified as he looked at his wife across the distance. He wondered what sort of Hel he had condemned her to, what sort of Hel he would willingly walk through in order to make her safe, to make everyone pay for her suffering.

Was it a half hour? An hour that they remained just so? It certainly felt like it. At long last, he crossed the room, sinking onto his knees next to her, hand on her thigh. He could feel her tension. He couldn’t, in fact, remember the last time his own shoulders hadn’t felt like strings on a guitar tuned too high. 

He squeezed her leg gently, looking outside as he spoke next, “What has it been like here? What are you permitted to do?”

She snorted, lip curled into a snarl. “They tell me that I am granted complete freedom of movement, and I can come and go from the palace whenever I please. They tell me that I have open access to all public places within the palace, even the kitchens!”

“However . . .”

“I am shadowed.”

Loki’s breath hissed at this, but he nodded as though he rather expected it.

“Oh, it’s at a discreet distance, mind you, but omnipresent, and close enough that it was noticed by several of my patients and at least one shopkeeper who asked that I not come back—it makes people nervous.”

“Yes.” 

“He took our wedding presents.”

“I know. I went to the house before coming here. The guard also said something about some papers?”

“Your letters.” Sigyn’s fists clenched tight on the arms of the chair. “They took the letters you wrote to me while you served as ambassador.”

“I should have guessed. Not yours?”

She smiled innocently, eyes wide. “They must have been lost when we moved. Oops.” She shrugged.

He chuckled and squeezed her leg once more. He shifted then, and began an inventory of the room. This was not the suite he had occupied growing up, but the rooms were still vaguely familiar. He had played enough games of hide and seek as a child to have been in and out of pretty much every corner and closet in the complex, and as an adolescent, he had made it his business to discover every nook and secret passageway. These rooms were much as he remembered, though the furnishings were perhaps not those that would have been laid out for more august guests. At least they had used his colors, rather than Thor’s. 

“You have not been shielded.”

“I assumed not.” She patted his hand patronizingly. “Don’t worry, Loki, I have been a very good girl. Hardly any broken knick knacks.”

“Hmmph, that’s not why I asked.” 

She shrugged and looked back outside. “You thought it.”

Loki sighed, then closed his eyes, mumbling as he started to work a few protections into the walls and ceiling so they could at least speak more freely. The room resisted these at first, which worried him, but gave way with more effort. When he felt he has assured them of some modicum of privacy, he looked up at Sigyn and smiled weakly. “I am sorry, Sigyn. For my long absences. It was not fair of me to leave you alone for so long.”

Sigyn shifted in her chair to face him. “It is not your physical absences that bother me. We certainly endured plenty of those during your exile. It is something else that I have missed. What has happened, Loki?” Her eyes searched his face as if reading some cryptic algorithm. “I hardly recognize what you’ve become—this creature consumed by vengeance. You have buried yourself.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor and knotted his fists. Of course she knew, though they had never spoken of it outright. She knew what he had been doing. Even when he answered, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes, gazing out past the balcony as he spoke, his voice barely audible. “I burn, Sigyn. I am full of rage. Every time I see my golden brothers hailed as the source of all that’s great and good, every time Odin leans over to ask Amora’s opinion of some matter of state, every time I hear some whispered slur—” he broke off, and finally turned to look up at her directly. “They must learn to respect me, to respect you.” He took up her hand. “You have more power in your left hand than Amora will wield in her entire lifetime! If you would only learn!”

“Stop.” She extricated her hand from his.

It was like arguing with a stone. His shoulders sagged. “I feel as though a net is tightening around us, and all I can do is watch. I have been tracking Balder and Amora. She has established a cult on Midgard, hundreds of little mortal sheep that she has duped into worshipping her with a little “faith healing” and prophecy. She drinks in their adoration, feeds on their worship. I have seen her intoxicated with it—quite literally. And when she returns to Asgard, she uses that power to create her golems. It takes tremendous amounts of energy to create the semblance of life. On her own, she would be lucky to have one or two of them, but she has created dozens, and she has convinced the All-father to utilize them in all sorts of places where an Einherjar would be too expensive.”

Sigyn ground her teeth. “Prophecy? When did she become a seer?”

“She has an artifact, a stone—I could feel its power even as I perched in a tree outside the temple. I do not know where she stole it from, but the stone gives her limited glimpses into the future. That is my next goal—to find where she keeps it hidden. Without it, her power will be greatly diminished.”

Sigyn scowled and across the room something shattered. “Why does **He** not do anything? Travel to Midgard is strictly prohibited. How, in all his _infinite wisdom and all-seeing might_ , can he not know? What about Frigga? She knows everything?”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh under his breath, despite everything. “Do they keep replacing those as you break them?” then ducked swiftly to avoid the palm that nearly connected with his head, throwing his hands up in surrender before he continued, “Amora is a clever manipulator, and Odin sees only what he wants to see. . . As for Frigga . . . she has withdrawn from court. I have barely seen her in months. It’s as though she has retreated entirely. Have you seen her since you came here?”

“I have not _seen_ her.” Sigyn hesitated. Then reached into a pocket of her breeches to pull something out wrapped in a bit of paper. “I did, however, find this under my pillow on my first night here.”

A pin for a cloak, decorated with a flock of magpies, seven of them, but space where one more had clearly been broken off.

“Is that all? No message?”

“On the paper.”

_Perhaps you should do more research about your ancestry._

“Well that’s cryptic.”

“Yes.”

Loki handed the bundle back. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

A smile spread over Loki’s face. “Done any more research?”

She scoffed. “How? That trail is long cold.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been to the library? Over 50 years? Well, guess who now lives in the palace with _free access to all public places_?” 

“Oh yes, along with a free escort, to boot!”

His voice became all-over sweet. “But you will merely be researching your ancestry.”

“But I don’t know what I am looking for!”

“Look in your hand. I am the magpie—you know that. It has always been my favorite form for quick travel when I wish to avoid prying eyes. Frigga knows it, too. And there is an old Midgardian children’s rhyme about magpies: One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret, Never to be told. Eight for a wish, Nine for a kiss, Ten for a bird, You must not miss.”

Sigyn looked at the brooch once more, fingering the empty space where the eighth bird had been broken off. “So . . . no wishes?”

“The time is past for wishing. We must do something. And that book of the Norns—it is full of secrets. I’m sure she believes we will find something there. ”

“So Frigga . . . ?”

“Perhaps she also watches. She is a shapeshifter, and now that I think about it, I’ve seen a cat lurking about the temple that seems to have a double at Amora’s estate.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes, the bitterness heavy on her tongue. “Then let Frigga do something about it. Why us? We are already living on the edge. Have we not paid enough for her husband’s blindness?”

“It is precisely because we are on the edge that we can act. Odin’s bureaucracy is too entrenched to take down from within. It must be demolished from without, and its corruption must be laid completely bare.”

Sigyn looked once more at the brooch, still playing with the empty space where the eighth bird was once mounted. “One for sorrow,” she looked at Loki and grimaced in frustration. “What trouble will that bird fly to? Loki, Amora wants to destroy you.”

Loki swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“You are not the only one who burns with rage, Loki.” Her fist clenched around the brooch tight enough to draw blood. “I’ve felt its simmering from the moment Balder invaded our house after our wedding. Coal after smoldering coal has been added to that fire ever since. If Amora takes you from me, Loki, I will explode. And I promise you, a good deal else will burn right next to me.”

Loki picked up her hand and pulled it to his face, brushing the back across his own cheek. “Sigyn, I am so very sorry. I allow my obsessions to close out everything else. Never doubt, however, that you are the very bedrock for everything I do—you are my breath, my blood, the spark of seidr that brings them to life.” He brought out the emerald ring Torvald had given him. “Will you wear this once more? A second pledge? I cannot promise that I will not fight her, but I do promise you are my lodestone, and I will always return to you.”

Sigyn put the ring on her finger and grabbed hold of Loki’s hand once more to squeeze it tight, and he pressed the knuckles to his lips. “I am so sorry, my love.” A tear dropped onto her hand and rolled away.

“Oh Loki.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not relinquish it, pressing kisses to each joint, turning her hand over to press his lips to her palm and each fingertip, guiding it to cup his face as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch like a cat.

Sigyn set the brooch aside and ran her fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp gently. “I have missed you, dearest,” she whispered. “So much.”

He turned his head to place soft kisses on her wrist, running his other hand up her thigh until the thumb rested at the base of her hip. “It has been,” he agreed, “so very long.” He flicked his tongue over her pulse point, closing his eyes as he opened his mouth to suck gently and savor the taste of her skin. He heard her breath quicken, and he shifted to kneel between her knees.

Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to make it up to me? I might allow you to worship me for the evening.”

“Oh you might?”

“I think I deserve a bit of pampering after what you’ve put me—ahh—through.” She gasped as he pushed up her loose sleeve and nipped at the soft flesh inside her elbow. 

“I have always enjoyed paying proper homage to your flesh, dearest.” As he stretched up to bury his face in her neck, Sigyn’s gasp at being tickled morphed onto a low moan as he placed soft wet kisses under her ear, across her jaw, then back down her neck to the hollow at its base while his hand moved over her waist then up her ribs just beneath her breast. He felt her heart rate increase and her breath come faster.

“So beautiful.” He crooned into her flesh as he breathed her in, “Have I told you how much I love this waistcoat?” He tugged at the laces and insinuated fingers between the garment in question and the linen shirt beneath. “It hugs your curves in precisely the right way.”

“And what way is that?”

“In precisely every way that scandalizes the social parasites in these halls.” He rubbed his face over said curves for emphasis inhaling deeply as he went. “Intoxicating.”

“Oh . . . ahhh! You always did have a weakness for leather.” The words now coming breathy and low. 

“Mmmmm . . . leather, and seidr, and herbs, and you.” He nosed the waistcoat aside to nibble at her breast through the shirt.

Sigyn’s hands moved up his arms over the lean muscle of his shoulders and then anchored themselves in his hair. As his attentions became more intense, her back arched up and her feet hooked behind his legs, the heels of her boots digging into his thighs, dragging herself to the edge of the chair and pulling him closer.

Loki took one more lingering suck before pulling back with a low chuckle. “I think I remember hiding in these rooms with Fandral on occasion.”

“Oh? He always was trouble, wasn’t he?”

“Hmm . . . back then? He was the best sort of trouble. I wonder if the bed is just as comfortable?”

Sigyn flashed a genuine smile at last. “Time to investigate, then?” She sighed.

“Definitely.” Loki picked her up as he stood in a single, fluid movement and headed into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters; I am not worthy.  
> I promise the wait for ch. 24 will not be as long--I already have a rough draft ready.


	24. Before: “Break, Burn, and Make Me New”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of stuff happens, which to summarize would be very spoilery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some completely predictable violence. 
> 
> This chapter could be considered a companion piece to chapters 5 and 6 which contain references/flashbacks to the events here.

Threads began to unravel.

The book of the Norns was no longer in the main archives, but now housed in a restricted section. No access for Outlanders.

Loki found his time increasingly scripted by duties at court, and was unable to follow Amora to her estate for anything more than short trips.

Loki and Balder were overheard in a shouting match, and rumors began to circulate that Loki had threatened his brother.

Sigyn’s patients asked her to stop coming, afraid of the shadow that followed her.

Loki was sent on a restricted assignment to Utgard while Amora and Balder planned another holiday to her estate.

Sigyn paced.

Paced their suite of rooms.

Paced the public gardens.

Paced the halls.

Paced the kitchen gardens.

Paced the walls of the city.

Everyone learned to give her a wide berth.

Three weeks after Loki departed, Thor arrived at her door, shoulders thrown back in challenge, demanding Loki’s whereabouts.

Sigyn’s hackles rose at Thor’s aggressiveness and she squared off, straightening her own shoulders as she answered, “Playing fetch for your father—you know exactly where he is.”

“He should have returned by now. The terms of his commission were clearly delineated. Where has he gone?”

“I am his wife, not his jailer, Thor. How would I know?”

“If he has gone to cause trouble for Balder . . .”

“Why would he bother trailing after that parasite?”

Thor took a step into Sigyn’s space, fingers itching near Mjolnir. “I have heard of his threats.”

She stood her ground and hissed back, “What threats?”

“Loki has made it very clear that Balder is not safe.”

“Where did you hear this?” Sigyn’s mouth curled up in derision.

“My lieutenant informed me just yesterday. He said his wife—“

“His wife?!? And where did his wife hear of it? From her waiting woman? Who no doubt heard it from her sister, who sits in the hallways listening at doorways trying to glean whose daughter-in-law has cheated on such-and-such’s husband!” Sigyn stepped forward until their faces were inches apart.

“Do not mock my officers, Sigyn. They are honest and true-hearted.”

“They are gullible fools.”

Thor lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “Mark me, Sigyn, I will travel to Balder’s estate myself. And if I find your husband lurking about with mischief in his heart, it will not go well for him.”

“Oh! He’s my husband now? Not your brother? I knew your blood would tell eventually—Odin’s Golden Son! Where is the warrior who stood by my husband’s side as shieldbrother?” She stepped back then, and her eyes raked up and down Thor’s frame. “Your measure comes something short of the _boy_ you used to be.”

Thor growled at her through clenched teeth and slammed the door as he stormed out, only to hear a great crash as something smashed into the door behind him.

Inside, Sigyn shook with frustrated rage and anxiety, her throat so tight it closed off her breath. _Amora is setting a trap! Fly home, you stupid, stupid magpie. Stop chasing shiny things, and come home!_

Come home he did.

In chains.

Dragged down to the prison by his brother as a dead weight, bruised and singed.

Not only was Sigyn not allowed to see him, the Allfather placed her under house arrest, not even permitted to leave her rooms.

No one could, or would, give her a clear accounting as to what had happened, just vague outlines. Amora’s estate empty. A portal to another world. A battle in a great temple. One rumor insisted Loki shot Balder with an arrow. Another that Frigga was run through as she threw herself in front of her youngest son. Someone else insisted that Loki had lured both Balder and Frigga to their deaths beneath a collapsing roof, or that they were cut to ribbons by shattered glass. Amora, by one account, was gravely injured trying valiantly to save her husband, while another described her as magically restrained and forced to watch her husband’s death.

Loki somehow responsible for all.

A trial to be held within days.

 _A mockery of a trial._ Sigyn sat stiff in a chair gazing blindly out her window. _How convenient they have a monster to blame._

Odin presided from his great throne, Thor on his right.

Einherjahr escorted a heavily bound Loki to the front of the courtroom, walls echoing with the dull thud of boots, the clanking of chains, and the murmuration of lookers on. Odin stood watching in silence for long minutes before he spoke.

“Loki, I find myself at a loss for words when I contemplate your deeds. I fail to understand the source of your bottomless resentment. I do not know from whence the roots of this bitterness grew.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed with spite, voice dripping with venom. “Do you truly not understand, Allfather?”

“Silence! I did not give you leave to speak.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained glacier hard.

“You stand accused of monstrous crimes, and the punishment shall match their enormity.”

“My guilt, then, has been pre-determined? I will be permitted no defense? Custom dictates that I at least offer some testimony.”

Amora screamed from across the courtroom with a maniacal ferocity — “Do not let him speak, Allfather! Do not permit his Jotun lies to profane your halls with slander.”

Loki wheeled around to face her, narrowed his eyes, readying his arsenal against her. Just as he drew breath to speak, however, the great echo of Gungir’s staff rang out against the marble steps. “Silence!” Light blinded the onlookers, and when the waves of sound finally died, Loki was on his back, tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and Odin motioned to the guards to restrain him. “If you will not be silent on command, you will be silent on compulsion.”

Odin then called to an executioner who had been waiting in the shadows of the dais, a great bear of a man, larger even than Thor. In his meaty fist he held no axe. Instead he wielded a great needle threaded with thick, dark sinew.

It took four Einherjar to hold him still, but when he was at last hauled to his feet, Loki’s mouth was sealed shut — sutured with hideous black stitches, blood dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. Loki’s eyes fixed on Odin, while Thor kept his eyes anchored in the middle distance, jaw clenched tight to keep down the bile in his throat.

By then, Odin once again sat stiff upon his throne, ready to deliver his final sentence. “Loki, you have utterly rejected the beneficence offered you, preferring exile over a carefully chosen marriage, preferring the company of strangers over the glittering opulence of the home offered you by the parents who rescued you from certain death and raised you as their own child. You stole the time stone from the Norns, hiding it somewhere on that abandoned realm called Midgard. You refuse to reveal its location so it may be returned. You slaughtered my son, Balder, when he tried to retrieve it. Frigga . . .” Odin fairly roared out this last, “Frigga brutally cut down in the melee that followed.”

He paused here to regain his breath before finishing. “You are sentenced to silence, Silvertongue, silence and solitude until I see fit to release you, or until the end of days.”

The crowd murmured its approval, but for Amora it was not enough. She kept her eyes locked hungrily on the blood oozing from Loki’s wounds, and she goaded Odin further, “And what of his wife?”

Odin’s gaze slowly swung to her face, surprizingly cold. “She will remain where she is, under house arrest. Alone.”

Amora shrieked in panic, tearing her eyes from Loki to Odin, “That’s not enough! She is party to his crimes, and an untrained seider-wielder. She is dangerous!”

The Allfather held her stare in silence as though he had happened upon a new and particularly grotesque insect. After an uncomfortably long pause, he once more slammed the butt of his spear to the floor, “Sigyn will remain as she is.” He clenched his teeth, jaw working as he fought for control then turned to face the rest of the courtroom. “None shall harm her, but neither shall any aid come to her. This is my final word.”

Odin turned and strode out of the hall, even as Amora gathered herself for another attack. He didn’t wait to watch as his adopted son was forced from the room to his cell, didn’t turn to speak to his remaining son who stood half dazed next to him, didn’t pause to listen to the singing of the blood in his own ears.

*****

The staff fought over who would deliver the news to Sigyn. When no one else would go, a scullery maid in rags was tasked with delivering the news to Sigyn. Because the poor girl trembled so, Sigyn allowed her to retreat before she began to break things.

Hours later, the howling started. It was not just unnaturally loud; it was thunderous. It shook the walls. Thor heard the heartache from across the palace in his own rooms and could not sleep.

In the morning, Eir went to Odin, pleading, “Let me go to her. She will harm herself.”

His cold eye never blinked, but didn’t seem to see anything, either. “She is a healer. Let her heal herself,” his voice numb and flat.

Thor bowed his head, shaken by the trial and the ache at the heart of Sigyn’s screams. “Perhaps Sigyn did not know what Loki did. His wife should not be punished for the crimes of her husband.”

Odin’s head snapped around to face him. “Pitch mars all it touches. He is no longer my son. She was never your sister-in-law.” If there was an odd hitch to his voice, Thor did not catch it.

Suddenly the howling stopped. Odin stood and retired alone to his study.

The palace itself seemed to breathe a deep sigh of relief, but in the depths of the prison, Loki felt a pressure building, felt the air press against his ears. He clenched his fists tight, knowing deep in his chest the reservoir of power that had been building over the last century, barely held in check by Sigyn’s dogged will to do for others. He wondered how that rage would manifest itself once released, and a fatalistic, maniacal, triumphant hysteria bubbled up within him, as he paced the perimeter of his cell with the neurotic intensity of a tiger locked in a too-small cage.

The following morning, the keening began.

As it started softly, it raised gooseflesh on the arms of the guards stationed outside Sigyn’s rooms, the air charged with potential energy. The sound might have been a mourning cry, but more fierce. It might have been the wailing of gulls, but more constant. It was a little bit like the cold winter wind whistling through bare cupboards or ill-caulked windows, but more powerful—the wailing cry of a banshee in the wasteland.

As it gathered strength, babes on the other side of the palace began to cry. Servants cowered in the depths of the kitchens. It beat on Loki’s heart even in his basement prison—he could feel its vibration through the stone of the foundations themselves and he sank to his hands and knees to absorb it.

As it built further, the guards stopped their ears, grown men began to sob, stopping in their tracks, paralyzed by grief.

Loki sat on the floor of his cell, his hands flat on the stone before him, absorbing the humming vibrations. Tears coursed down his cheeks, even as a smile split his face and pulled painfully at the stitches in his mouth.

They would not be not forgotten.

No one would ever forget.

But he also knew with same certainty with which he knew his bones could break that Sigyn was about to make a terrible sacrifice for their vindication. For their vengeance.

Because make no mistake, the truth would out, and Amora would pay.

As the keening neared its peak, light began to glow from beneath Sigyn’s door and stream out of her windows—white hot in its intensity. Odin himself rounded the corner, face rigid with a mixture of fury and fear as the sound finally reached the top of its crescendo, a great flash blew the doors from their hinges, the force great enough to knock even the Allfather against the wall.

When he finally picked his way through the debris, he and his guards stood dumbfounded at the threshold — both at what they saw, and at what they did not. Wisps of white ash swirled across the floor. All else was burned clean — the furniture, hangings, books, everything. Red heat still radiated from the stone floor, but nothing was left.

And Sigyn was gone.

Not 30 minutes after Odin returned to his desk, servants gasping for breath ran to report, “All of the enforcers have collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” He demanded. “Explain.”

“They turned rigid, and fell over when touched. Some just broke to pieces like unfired clay.”

The Allfather sent to Amora for an explanation, but the mystery only deepened. “She is gone,” came the message. “Everything inside her rooms is like a great swirling storm had rushed through her apartments. All her things—books, clothes, toiletries, vases, everything—scattered in great heaps, fires smolder in the sitting room. Her handmaid seemingly turned to lifeless clay. Lady Amora is gone.”

Odin called on Heimdall, whose far-seeing eyes searched through the nine realms, there was no time to send out search parties. Even as Odin stood by his side, The Watcher reported a great flash on Midgard, centered on the temple where Balder and Frigga had been killed. The temple crammed with panicked mortals. A statue fashioned precisely like Loki, stood rigid in the sanctuary. Amora frantically destroying relics and setting fires throughout. Sigyn apparently trying to move the mortals from out of the temple basement. Amora running down the stairs. An explosion.

Suddenly a tremendous flash, followed by a shockwave as great as an asteroid crashing into the earth’s crust. And then nothing. Silence.

Once more, Sigyn was gone.

Odin sank to his knees, Gungir falling with a crash to the observatory floor, Thor dumbfounded by his side.

Loki needed no messenger to tell him the news. As soon as the flagstones ceased their humming, he knew.

He knew, and his heart screamed.

His very soul howled with such force it shattered Odin’s spell. His mouth tore open, bleeding his anguish, because he knew. They had their revenge. The stone had been found. A trail would prove Amora’s guilt.

But Sigyn was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Sonnet 14  
> John Donne
> 
> Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you  
> As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;  
> That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend  
> Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.  
> I, like an usurped town, to another due,  
> Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end.  
> Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,  
> But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.  
> Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,  
> But am betrothed unto your enemy:  
> Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,  
> Take me to you, imprison me, for I,  
> Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,  
> Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.


	25. After--Signaling through the flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor threatens Sigyn’s houseguests, and she teaches him to mind his manners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter pick up right after those of chapter 21, where Elli had just introduced Loki to Cyril, the gentleman stone giant, Sigyn had told Ellie of her parentage, and they had just been cursing at an unexpected visitor from Asgard.

As Sigyn ran around the corner of the house, she saw Cyril unfold himself to his full height—easily as tall as the spruce tree next to him, voice raised but still much gentler than seemed possible given the circumstances, “I have done nothing to provoke this attack, Thor King, nothing to offend you. Why do you raise your hammer at me?”

Thor hefted Mjolnir once more before he replied, “Your very presence here is an offense. You are in direct violation of treaties that have stood for over a thousand years. How can you claim that you have not offended? I shall see that you face trial and are punished for this violation, even if it means summoning the Einharjahr to do it.”

“That’s the Thor I remember,” Loki spat, “smash everything first and ask questions later.”

Cyril frowned deeply and straightened his back defiantly. “I shall not budge. Neither you nor your Aesir lackeys can move me.”

The air whistled as Thor began swinging his hammer.

“STOP!” Sigyn yelled as she stomped through the last few puddles in the yard, heedless of the mud, coat forgotten in the house.

Thor didn’t even turn his head to make his reply. “You have no authority here, Sigyn. This intruder must pay for his blatant disregard for the rule of law.”

Instead of answering, Sigyn held out her hand, fingers splayed wide, and with the gesture, Mjolnir began to glow with white heat, air crackling with the sudden temperature change. Thor yelled in surprise as he dropped her, shaking his blistered hand.

Only then did Sigyn address him once more, body rigid with the anger and resentments dredged up from the past. “You may have settled your debts with my husband, Thor, but I have yet to forgive you for your part in Loki’s imprisonment. If you are half the king your brother says you are, you had better back off and apologize to my guest, or else you can return to Asgard and try to explain to your wife why your dick is encased in molten armor.”

Thor gaped for a moment open mouthed at the hammer as she lay on the ground, smoke and flames curling around her handle as the sod beneath smoldered and burned. When, finally, he turned toward Sigyn, his face, too, burned red with anger.

“This.” He pointed to his weapon. “This is precisely why the council demanded your exile. Your rage turns you into a bilgesnipe that destroys friend and foe alike, and you cannot yourself mitigate the destruction you wreak. You are utterly uncontrollable.”

“There is where you are wrong, brother,” Loki cut in before Sigyn could issue more curses. “Do you see any damage to anything but yourself? Sigyn may once have been an untrained dragon, but now she is a laser, and you had best listen when she speaks.”

Thor clenched and unclenched his fists, wincing as the gesture irritated his burns, glancing once more at his hammer as it sat on the smoking earth beside him, then turning to glare at Sigyn once more, before looking up at Cyril who remained standing, rigid and frowning. “He is in direct violation of—“

“Spare me your recitation, Thor,” Sigyn cut in, “of the regulations that Asgard imposes on others but refuses to follow itself. I will be frank with you—my experience with Asgardian justice has ever been less just and more ass.”

“Sigyn!” Loki growled and quickly moved to interpose himself between his wife and brother as Thor began to advance.

Sigyn anchored her hands on Loki’s shoulders as she tried to push him aside and shout around him, “Do you think I have forgotten? You are the one who served as Odin’s elghund tracking your own brother and keeping him at bay. You are the drooling retriever who dragged him back in your teeth. I have tolerated you up to this point because Loki desired it, but I am not party to whatever truce you forced him to accept, and you will not get in the way of my vengeance by destroying those I see as kin. You may be my brother, but I feel no obligation to honor any ties of blood with you.”

Loki hissed low by her ear, “Sigyn, not now.”

She hissed right back, “Oh! I beg your pardon, Loki, if I have spoiled whatever dramatic scene of revelation you might have planned.”

“What?” Thor thundered over their exchange. “Vengeance against me? Against Asgard?”

Sigyn dodged so she could peer around Loki once more. “While that’s a tempting prospect, no, I have more important targets in mind, Brother. Amora is here, and you will not get in between me and her utter annihilation. Go back to Asgard, or somehow prove yourself better than our bastard of a father, and get out of my way!”

The wheels suddenly clicked into place and Thor’s mouth dropped open. “Our f—? What are you talking about?” He turned to Loki. “Loki, what is she talking about?”

Loki snarled at his wife, “I cannot believe you just did that!” Then turned to his brother, one hand on his forehead in frustration and the other making a grand gesture toward Sigyn. “In their infinite wisdom, Thor, the Norns gifted the universe with another child of Odin. Meet your sister, Sigyn, Once-Hailed-Outlander.” 

A chorus of what’s echoed around the yard from Thor, Cyril, and Logi, too, who had come around from the front of the house to investigate. The sounds of their confusion was underscored by the descant of Elli’s cackling.

Thor stepped closer and repeated himself, voice slightly lower than a moment ago, “What are you saying?”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes and leveled a baleful glare in his direction. “I am of Odin’s blood. Part Odin and,” she held up a hand to display an impressive blossom of flames flickering from her fingertips, “part fire giant.” 

And though one would not have thought it possible, her words became even more sharp as she doused the flames by making a fist. “Life is just full of surprises, is it not? Sigyn Outlander, apparently, is more kin to you than the brother you were raised with. Does that change things?”

“No! Yes! Wait!” Thor scrubbed his forehead with his injured hand then jerked it away in pain. “Who knows this? How long have you known this? Did Father know this?”

Loki interjected before Sigyn spat out more insults, “Just us, and Heimdal now, I suppose, since there’s no shielding here in the yard,” and he glared once again at Sigyn. “And we’ve only known it for a few days.” He hesitated slightly, then added, “We don’t know if Odin knows.”

Thor’s eyes jumped from one face to the other as he struggled to digest this, even as Elli smirked and occasionally giggled from behind them all.

“Could we—“ Thor began, halted, then began again. “Could we go inside and talk? I feel as though I need to sit down.”

Sigyn crossed her arms. “Apologize to my guest first.”

Loki’s face was pure astonishment.

Thor’s mouth worked for a moment like a fish stuck out of water. He ran his fingers through his hair—with the uninjured hand—before turning to Cyril with a dazed look. “I am sorry. We will sort this out later.”

Cyril nodded curtly, but as soon as Thor turned to head into the house, he grinned gleefully and winked at Elli.

Once Loki and Thor closed the kitchen door, Sigyn looked between Elli and Cyril, over to Logi and then back to Elli, nodding at the house. “Elli, will you . . .”

Elli snorted. “No, little one, I’d sooner sunbathe on Jotunheim than sit in a room with the three of you right now. I will stay out here and listen to what Logi has to say.”

Sigyn scowled at her then followed the two men inside, followed by Elli’s unbridled amusement, “molten armor, heehee! I’d like to see Sif’s face at that! Ha!”

Once inside the couple explained more fully what Sigyn had discovered, and what they suspected of Amora’s proximity. Of Cyril, they only told Thor that he came to help, skipping over the length of his stay on Midgard and his connection to Loki’s mother.

Only then did they mention the stone, and the necessity of approaching Odin.

Thor’s answer, however, was unequivocal. “He cannot help.” 

Indignant hackles straightened Sigyn’s spine. “Why not?” 

“He sleeps, Sigyn.”

“What?”

“He has entered the Odinsleep. He has been asleep for a year-and-a-half.”

“How very convenient,” Sigyn spat out, just as Loki loosed his own indignation, “When were you going to mention this?” 

When Thor only shrugged, Sigyn prodded him, “Have you tried to wake him up?”

Thor sputtered. “What? No! It’s the Odinsleep! He must remain undisturbed.”

Sigyn remained undeterred. “Oh, I’ll disturb him, alright.” 

“I forbid it.”

“How will you stop me?”

“Sigyn!” Loki shouted before she could go any farther. She snapped her mouth shut, but remained far from pleased. 

Loki leaned toward Thor from his seat on the couch, elbows on his knees. “Thor, we have to at least try. Can you not take us to his bedside to see if he will wake? The stone must be returned to the Norns. It would take me months to find the path, but the Allfather has walked that road at least once already. We need his help.”

“I will need to consult with the Council.”

“Why?” The couple spoke in sync.

“Because Sigyn is barred. She cannot enter Asgard without their permission.”

Sigyn set her jaw and crossed her arms as she stood menacingly behind the couch. “How will they stop me?”

Loki sighed as he leaned back into his seat once more. “This is not helpful Sigyn.”

Sigyn turned her wrath on him. “No? Too bad. How many years did I endure Asgard’s sanctimonious condescension? The sneers of their shopkeepers? The whispers of their golden-tressed ladies? How dare they bar my presence from my birthplace? What home do they believe I have elsewhere?”

“But they will see things differently now,” Thor insisted.

“Will they?”

“If you are truly Odin’s offspring . . .”

“Of course,” she sneered, “that changes everything.”

Thor screwed his mouth in a cynical smile. “Yes actually. Yes, it does. Whether we like it or not.”

“How long?” Loki sighed as he spoke. “How long will it take?”

“A few weeks?”

Sigyn huffed in exasperation. “We do not have a few weeks, Thor. Logi says they have spotted dozens of enforcers — just like the ones Amora made for Odin—and they are only a week or two away from here. The stone should not be here when she arrives.”

“A week, Thor.” Loki insisted. “You have a week. And we do not hear from you before then, we will seek out Odin on our own.”

Thor set his jaw. “We will not open the Bifrost to you.”

Loki laughed. “You know very well that I do not need the Bifrost to travel between the realms. We will do what is necessary, with or without the Council’s permission. Certainly, I would rather have your cooperation, but I will act without it if need be.”

Thor sat in silence for a long time, finally asking if he could take a walk outside for a few minutes to think. The couple agreed, Sigyn suggesting that this would give them time to finish talking with Elli, Cyril, and Logi. 

As Thor wandered off into the tress, Loki and Sigyn crossed the yard to their visitors. The information Logi brought was both completely expected, and shockingly surprising.

“Well, we expected her to bring an army, didn’t we?” Loki seemed non-plussed.

“Yes,” replied Logi, “but there is one tiny detail that could complicate our strategy.”

“Which is?”

He looked right at Loki. “They all look like you.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All of the dolls we have seen are molded in your form, Loki. She has an entire army of you.”

“She’s insane,” cried Sigyn.

“I don’t think her relative sanity was ever in question,” came Elli’s flat reply.

Cyril cut in softly, “She knows it will make you hesitate.”

“Sorry?” Sigyn had nearly forgotten he was there, he had been so quiet.

The look Cyril gave Sigyn was perhaps the saddest she had ever seen. “She knows how difficult it will be for you to strike down your husband. Whether she wins or loses, she will make you suffer. What better way to hurt you than to make you kill your love over and over and over and over. She doesn’t seek victory. Only pain.”

Loki took Sigyn’s hand and squeezed it tight. “We must return the stone to the Norns. Now. With or without Thor’s help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry as Insurgent Art   
>  by Lawrence Ferlinghetti 
> 
> I am signaling you through the flames.   
> The North Pole is not where it used to be.   
> Manifest Destiny is no longer manifest.   
> Civilization self-destructs.   
> Nemesis is knocking at the door.   
> What are poets for, in such an age?  
> What is the use of poetry?   
> The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it.   
> If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of apocalyptic times, even if this meaning sounds apocalyptic.   
> You are Whitman, you are Poe, you are Mark Twain, you are Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, you are Neruda and Mayakovsky and Pasolini, you are an American or a non-American, you can conquer the conquerors with words....


End file.
